


Storm and the Cursed Prince part 1: The Curse

by storm_dog_pirate



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, F/F, F/M, Multi, Sort Of, for the grishabigbang 2020, klsdfhjalsdf not yet finished, part 2 still in the works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_dog_pirate/pseuds/storm_dog_pirate
Summary: There is nothing for the second prince.For years, Nikolai had lived behind his brother’s shadow. But when he made a name for himself and acquired the people’s approval, his older brother Vasily saw him as a threat to his throne and he sought help from someone who knew a thing or two for dark magic.Now cursed with the darkness wielded by the Black Heretic, Nikolai is given a solution to end his torment—a dagger to the heart by the hand of the one he loved.The storm always rages, but at the eye it has calmness.Zoya was a soldier of the Second Army; an extraordinary Squaller who fought alongside both humans and Grisha against enemies that threatened to invade Ravka, and who had a gift of delivering her words with sharp wit and poison. She was fiercely loyal to her country and to the Second Army, but she found it tested when she was faced by questioning flashes of memories that seemed too real.Troubled by the visions she sees from time to time, she tries to seek answers from other people only to conclude it as a figment of her imagination when she has no explanation for it. But not until she finds a hidden estate in the middle of the woods.
Relationships: David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar Kir-Bataar/Nadia Zhabin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 40
Collections: Grishaverse Big Bang 2020





	1. Nightmare Festival

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAA it's finally here. I hope you all bear with me for not being able to complete the second part of this fic yet. But I will definitely getting back at it soon.

**PRELUDE**

Once upon a time, there was a prince that was loved the least by everyone around him. Growing up, he was always ridiculed by his older brother—Ravka’s Crown Prince. 

Being young did have its usual advantages. He learned to ignore the words being drilled into his mind and prevent them from staying within. But it was only a matter of time before he fully understood what the words meant, and then he started viewing things a little differently.

The young prince realized that he needed to make a name for himself, knowing that his talents did not rest in staying still around the castle. So instead of doing the honorary commission like any noble sons, he chose the infantry and earned his ranks as any soldier would.

It wasn’t long until the second son became a crowd favorite; with the younger prince developing charisma, confidence, and wisdom that made people like him. 

But behind the developing trust he was getting from most people, there were still mixed opinions about him that gave doubts to his credibility.

_“It was the younger one that helped defend the frontlines against the attempted attacks from both the Fjerdans and the Shu for quite some time. . . .”_

_“Who_ is _the second son? I hadn’t noticed or heard of him for quite a while.”_

_“Stationed at Halmhend, guarding the northern borders. And at times, even the southern borders.”_

_“There had been talks about him travelling the seas as a privateer. Nasty fellow, I’d say.”_

_“Nikolai Lantsov, that is his name, worked in both seas and lands to keep Ravka afloat.”_

_“Some say he has no right to the throne; a bastard of common blood. Thank the saints for his older brother.”_

_“I heard that he’d had a rough time in the seas, thus the sudden return to the capital a few years ago. Who knows how that affected his mind? We cannot trust him.”_

_“Either way, he’d have done much more than his older brother who is next in line to the throne.”_

Whether good or bad, it was the second son who had the attention of the people in the capital and all the cities. Even in the smaller towns, they knew of the golden-haired prince. 

_The too-clever-fox._ It was the nickname whispered in every corner and in every street of Ravka. _The fox that found his way out of everything._

Amidst of the whispered praises or insults came the sudden abdication of the current king. The former monarch’s abdication letter cited an ‘undisclosed’ reason; although some claimed that it was due to His Highness’ failing health, others concluded that it was because of a much darker cause that involved violating the law. 

No matter the explanation, it would still lead to the coronation of the crown prince Vasily Lantsov to take their father’s place as the next king. 

This event, however, was almost hindered by riots in the upper and lower towns of Os Alta, demanding the second prince be crowned instead. It had nearly resulted in a bloodbath, had the second prince not ridden out with his trusted guards to settle the disturbance within the capital himself. He had not meant to let his temper get the better of him, but circumstances only deemed to make it worse than it already was.

After the outburst in the upper town’s square, the too clever fox thought that the townspeople would stop looking up to him as their leader—although the thought of losing their support did sting his pride—and he had never been more surprised when the praises did not waver after the coronation was over.

It became much stronger instead; strong enough to rattle the newly crowned king’s resolve that he settled for the last option he’d had in mind.

Pushing the ' _great_ ’ little brother out of his way.

***

Thundering of both hooves and feet resounded against the gravel path leading towards a certain hidden property before its gates were thrown open and a cluster of mixed blue and red and black uniformed soldiers swarmed inside the estate’s wide lawn. They immediately circled around the small group huddled in front of the manor, covering all possible escape routes for them. 

The man ahead of the group watched the people warily, hazel eyes scrutinizing each soldier nearest to them. The way he stood and held himself upright gave him the impression of someone with high rank. His companions tensed behind him, and he looked over his shoulder—the woman in a red _kefta_ with a patch over her right eye held her chin up as she stared ahead, gaze never wavering in its intensity. Beside her, another woman with short hair and gold eyes slowly reached for her axes strapped on both of her thighs, gripping tightly on the weapons until her knuckles turned white. He glanced to his left, watching as the tall man reached for a dagger at his belt, but did not draw it right away. 

A path straight ahead of the group was opened by the soldiers and a black steed made its way towards them. A figure clad in the same color sat astride the steed, commandeering it painfully slowly. 

The sound of frantic footsteps came from somewhere behind them. The man in front turned halfway, recognizing the other man in a purple _kefta_ that was barreling towards them. He heard the woman in red draw in a sharp breath as the other man came to a stop a few feet from them.

“They have evacuated in the tunnels below—” the man in purple began in a hushed tone, but stopped when he looked ahead and saw the figure in black. “This is _bad_.”

“Yes, completely,” hissed the woman in red. “And you were _supposed_ to go with them—”

“The four of you are mad if you think I will leave you here to face _him_.”

A series of claps had their attention, and the five people turned their heads to the person walking towards them. 

“Ah, the storm _dog_ and his lackeys,” the figure in black greeted, a sly grin evident on his face. His eyebrows furrowed as he scanned them, pointing a finger to each of them as if he were doing a headcount. “Short on one member, _Your Highness_?”

The young monarch’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing further. To his left, the tall man released a sharp breath.

“We can only hope _she_ gets the message,” he said. 

“What certain reasons did you have to come barging in my property, Commander?” asked the man with hazel eyes, who then huffed a laugh. “Here to do an errand, a messy one that is, considering all these soldiers. Enlighten me?”

The ‘ _Commander’_ laughed. “I’d prefer to be known as the Black Heretic by you. You’re more clever than I thought you would be, Your Highness.”

“Did my dear old brother turn to you and ask for help to get rid of me? It’s not even three days after his coronation.”

“Fret not, your dear old brother easily agreed to my demands and gave me the Second Army. I expected that from him since the start.”

There was no denying the dread that enveloped them as the weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air. The silence stretched on, and it wasn’t broken until the Black Heretic laughed mockingly.

“I guess you weren’t expecting that, yes?” he scoffed, eyeing the five of them with pity. “Let me show you.” He waved a hand, and a lot happened at once.

The soldiers in red and blue lifted their arms, ready to call upon their powers, and the ones in black cocked their rifles and pointed at them. The man in purple bolted in front of them, placing his body as a shield for the young monarch with arms raised in surrender.

They were definitely outnumbered—there were at least _twenty_ of them—but it was better to go down fighting. 

“Wait—!” 

The man in purple was yanked back as three people stepped forward. The golden-eyed woman let her axe fly to the Black Heretic, and the giant took it as a cue to barrel forward. A few soldiers dropped when shots rang and the woman in red raised her arm to summon. And then there was silence.

The Black Heretic remained unharmed. The giant was on the ground, breath heaving, and the rest of the small group had rifles pointed at their heads.

It was over as fast as it had begun.

The Black Heretic got down from his horse, looking around at some of his downed soldiers, but there weren’t any deaths, much to his obvious amusement. He stopped in front of the tall man who had surged forward to the soldiers earlier, now bracing his arms on the ground and breathing hoarsely.

“Got yourself some _very_ loyal ones here. I’ll give him credit for that. Truest of soldiers until the end.” The Black Heretic cocked his head to the side. “Shall I start with him, Your Highness?”

This earned a snarl from the monarch. He tried to get up from the ground, but a rifle connected to the back of his knees and he fell back down with a stifled grunt. “Your business is with _me_. You will not touch any of them,” he said lowly, voice laced with threat. 

“Protective of his people as always. Very well.” The Black Heretic waved a hand, and a soldier in blue sent a gust of wind towards the giant that sent him flying back to his companions. “Keep him down.”

The woman with the same golden eyes reached over the tall man, quietly asking if he was alright; he nodded tightly. 

“Bring the second prince to me.” 

Two soldiers in black hauled the man with hazel eyes to his feet, dragging him until he was a few feet away from their leader. One hit him behind the knees with the rifle again, much harder this time, and he was forced to kneel back down. He stared back at the man dressed in black, cold fury burning in his eyes. 

“You know, your dear big brother didn’t want you dead ,” he said with a grin. “At first, I was confused. His exact words were, ‘ _Get rid of him, but don’t kill him just yet’._ Such a contradicting thing to say, but I understood what he wanted.” A short pause. “He wouldn’t have come to me if he wanted to kill you. It’s an easy job.”

The man on the ground laughed. He shook his head and stared defiantly at the Black Heretic, gaze never wavering. “Then he’s a fool to still let me live,” he replied. “A fox always finds its way out of everything.”

“Then let’s see if you can find a way out of this.”

The Black Heretic lifted a hand and touched the prince’s forehead. Darkness erupted from his fingers, slowly descending to the young monarch’s skin, like cloth seeping in wetness. Black veins emerged on the skin of his neck, running down to his arms and hands, and his eyes turned from hazel to endless pools of black. A growl tore its way through his throat, and along with it came out talons from where his fingers had been. 

He doubled over and braced his hands on the ground. Behind him, he could still hear his companions’ strangled voices of protest.

“Touching. They clearly care about some bastard prince.” The Black Heretic watched the prince with pity as the latter continued to tremble. “Don’t worry, there’s a catch to that. What I gave you is not in its full effect yet. It gradually feeds on you, making it even worse every time you give in to the darkness that comes from within.” He reached out his hand, and one of his soldiers placed a dagger on his palm; taken from the prince’s belt after the commotion had stopped. “But I am going to give you an out. We both know how _magic_ works in this world. Always comes with a price, they say, and I know too well what to offer in order to use it.” 

He raised the dagger and touched its blade to his other hand, slowly cutting a clean line across his skin. “This curse to your soul is bound by this blood offering from the Black Heretic himself, may it only be severed by this dagger being driven to your heart” —blood dripped down from his hand and onto the earth— “by the one you love.”

A muffled roar echoed through the estate, followed by a vicious wind sounding like whispers from voices that spoke all at once. The Black Heretic breathed deeply as he raised his arms, looking satisfied with himself. Then there was silence again and he looked back down to the monarch at his feet, who was still shaking terribly as the darkness that plagued him faded slowly.

“Well, hush now, dear.” He patted the prince on his head, and the claws of the young monarch began transforming back into his human hands. The Black Heretic smiled ruefully and lifted his head towards the group near the manor, savoring the fury etched in their faces. “Give them a nice, decent sleep for being loyal dogs to our second prince. They deserve that, at least,” he told the soldiers, then to the prince, “before they face your true form.”

The soldiers dropped the members of the prince’s crew one by one, and the Black Heretic watched with an amused look. Then, as if remembering something, he turned his attention to his hand and the bloodied dagger. He tossed the weapon aside, landing a few feet away from the prince. The members of the group were now lying unconscious on the land while their leader was still trying to get a hold of himself.

“Don’t worry,” the Black Heretic told the prince, “you have my cheer. I hope you find the person destined to free you from your agony before it consumes all of who you are.” He bent down for good measure and whispered, “It is better to perish being yourself rather than in the form of an abomination.”

With that, the Black Heretic straightened and barked out orders to the soldiers as they prepared to depart the property. There was still something to do in the capital before the whole plan was complete. But as they marched out of the estate a while later, he said one last line.

“ _Long live the beloved Nikolai._ ”

And as the Black Heretic erased their existence everywhere and in the people's minds, the second prince who was once the crowd favorite, was now known no more.

***

**ONE - NIGHTMARE FESTIVAL**

_“Even if the mind forgets, the heart will always remember.”_

Zoya knew it was happening again.

It occurred from time to time in the past five months. She would find herself dreaming whenever she fell into a deep sleep. All ranging from reasonable to unrealistic, she was helping fly a ship in one dream, and in a room with unfamiliar people, talking about getting a decoy skiff to Arkesk, in another. 

This time, however, she found herself on a narrow trail in the woods. She was surrounded by bushes and trees, most of them crisscrossing overhead so that they blocked the view of the sky. It felt eerie; she could hear the occasional rustling of leaves and the crunching sound of fallen branches being stepped on. But despite the atmosphere emanating from the woods, Zoya felt an odd sense of familiarity around her. As if she had passed through this path a hundred times, even though she was certain she had never seen this place before.

She heard another rustle, much closer this time, and her defenses kicked in. The sound came again from somewhere ahead. Zoya focused her eyes to the thick brush several feet away, expecting something to jump out and attack her. But nothing came out after a little while. She scoffed at herself for waiting on nothing. 

Trusting her senses and more of her gut feeling, Zoya walked towards the brush and slowly pushed her way through, revealing the same sight of the trail and more trees. Somewhere ahead she could make out light at the end of the woods, opening to what she guessed was a clearing. 

She started to walk towards the end, only to be stopped when another rustle came from directly to her right. Something burst through from behind the tree bark, making Zoya take a step back in bewilderment. 

It was a _fox_.

This wasn’t a surprise in the woods; she had seen a _lot_ worse than a fox in areas like these. What did surprise her, was the way the fox was staring back at her, its body half-turned to the clearing, like it was expecting her to follow. She looked at the small creature skeptically, though it was common knowledge that foxes weren’t dangerous—unless they were rabid. 

Zoya took a step forward, but then she heard another sound. It was something different this time. Somewhere distant, like a whisper carried by the wind or a shout from afar, someone was calling her name. 

She was being woken. 

Everything started to ripple and blur until she couldn’t see the end of the woods anymore, and the fox turned fully to her. The sound of her name became louder in her ears, but before the dream was cut abruptly, Zoya heard something that came from the fox. 

A voice. A smooth, confident voice that seemed to trigger something in her mind. “ _Remember._ ”

Zoya jolted awake. Then, in a flash, brightness poured from the window, making her hiss in disapproval as she held a hand up to shield her eyes. She looked over to see Nadia standing by the sill, a hand over her hip as the other held the curtains. Her blonde hair was almost white against the light.

“Rise and shine, dear Zoya,” she said in a cheery tone, though her face said otherwise. The sleeves of her blue _kefta_ were folded to her elbows, and the rest of the material was already rumpled, like she had undergone a grueling training session. But it was a rest day for the Second Army today, even for the senior Squallers. “Usually I’d let you slack off for a little more time, but I decided not to.”

“What do you want?” Zoya sat up groggily, massaging her temple as a wave of pain made its way to her head. She immediately found her mood souring. “Isn’t it too early for you to be disturbing my slumber?”

Nadia raised a brow. “Early? It’s almost noon, buffoon.” 

“You’re joking.” She looked around the room and found the five other beds vacant and completely made. Perhaps the other girl wasn’t joking. “Really?”

“Yes. You actually slept through breakfast.” 

There was silence as Zoya let the words sink in, and she let out an exasperated breath. “Saints, this is getting exhausting,” she muttered, rubbing the heel of her palm into the spot between her eyebrows.

“Those. . . _dreams_ of yours again?” 

Zoya let out a humorless laugh. “What else?”

“I don’t know, visions of the future, maybe?”

The raven-haired woman only scoffed and said nothing more. Nadia had been one of the few people to know about her dreams who didn’t think she was going mad. She remembered the time when the dreams were nothing more than short and irrelevant—when her mind had shown her the memory of the war she’d fought in two years ago—and Zoya felt like there was something _missing_ from it when she woke up the next day in cold sweat and wonder. 

They started getting weirder and weirder, and she was told by their Commander to go to a Healer to have her condition checked. It was diagnosed as post-traumatic stress in the aftermath of the war. There wasn’t anything to be alarmed at, they told her, though Zoya knew better than to let the dreams be deemed as nonsense. 

But as the months passed, she assumed that answers were beyond her grasp, and there were things that simply couldn’t be explained. 

Soon enough, she was only confiding in the very few people she knew she could trust. Word had already spread across the Little Palace—probably in the Grand Palace as well—about her visions, and Zoya needn’t any more hushed whispers or pitiful stares thrown her way whenever she walked around. Not that she cared what they said about her; it was just tiring to be reminded of the visions she had to endure and had no answers for.

Nadia walked towards the adjacent bed to Zoya’s left and sat on the mattress. She looked slightly troubled, like she was going to war with herself. Then after a moment, she said, “You were saying something before you woke.” 

Zoya’s head snapped up in an instant. “What did I say?”

“Something like ‘ _bog_ ’, I think? It’s the only thing I heard that was coherent. There was something before that, but then you were eating most of the vowels.”

“’ _Bog_ ’?” Zoya was bemused. She tried repeating it in her head, but it only stayed by the tip of her tongue.

“I had the same expression you have now when I heard you mumbling in your sleep. What was it this time?”

The words hesitated to come out from her mouth; a reminder of another questioning vision etched in her mind. “Some fox in the woods,” Zoya replied quietly. If there was something she hated, it was not having even the slightest idea on what she was seeing. 

“A _fox_?”

“Yes, Nadia, a fox. Like from those tales they tell to children.”

Nadia frowned, crossing her arms and looking in the distance as if she were trying to make sense of the new information. “One time there was a hound, and now a fox. Are you sure you weren’t some keeper of animals in your past life?”

Zoya fought the urge to roll her eyes. _Good day to me, indeed._ “Look, if we’re to talk about this now, it would surely take a whole day and we’d definitely miss lunch if it’s true it’s almost noon. It’s not good to talk on an empty stomach, yes?” 

“Alright, easy, general. I was just trying to lift your dark spirits.”

“My dark spirits would be lifted if I finally had something to appease my hunger.” Zoya stood up and fixed her bed before fetching her blue _kefta_ from the stand in the corner of their room. “And don’t call me that.”

They were out of the room and were walking through the hall when she heard Nadia ask, “Call you what?” She appeared beside Zoya after a moment, a puzzled look evident on her face.

“General.” The raven-haired woman felt her eyebrows furrow and frowned when the voices of the other Grisha walking along the hall became louder than she could’ve handled. They all sounded lively and excited for some reason.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

Nadia wrinkled her nose. “Whatever you say.”

There were still a lot of Grisha at the dining hall when they arrived, the mixture of colors of the Orders a small sight for sore eyes. Once upon a time, Grisha would only fraternize within their own Orders. Even then, there would still be some conflict within the same Order—Zoya and Nadia had a history of bad blood when they were students.

But now they sat side by side, brought together by the centuries worth of war. The same war that always loomed overhead with no end in sight, and which they were expected to fight for until their last breath.

Perhaps Zoya did believe that they would all survive to see the end of Ravka’s continuous torment.

After they got their own share of the plates and silverware from the kitchen, the two of them took their usual spot at the middle table, directly under the glass chandelier. Harshaw, one of the senior Inferni, was already eating at the table, the orange tabby cat of his nestling on his nape, contrasting with the bright red of his hair. 

“I’m still surprised they let you keep the cat,” Zoya said as a greeting as she sat at the bench across him. 

“Her name is Oncat,” Harshaw muttered without looking up. He had the habit of averting his eyes from whom he was speaking to most of the time. The cat gave a soft _meow_ , and he gave it a gentle pat on the head.

She waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Kaelish for cat. I still believe she deserves a better name.”

Nadia chuckled from beside Zoya. “The cat’s a legend here, Zoya. She’s been through the wars, too.”

“Meowing the whole time?”

Harshaw finally looked up from his plate, eyes narrowed into almost-slits and a gaze sharper than necessary. “She says she’s offended,” he said. 

Zoya raised a brow in amusement, and Nadia only gave an apologetic shrug before focusing on her own plate. She knew better than to say something else about the cat because they would never hear the end of its ‘ _words_ ’ to the Inferni from across them. _Harshaw and his quirkiness._

There was a long silence that stretched from their table, with nothing but the occasional laughs and chatter from the other Grisha in the hall. It wasn’t until someone approached them did Zoya look up from her plate, popping the last slice of apple in her mouth. 

A young man with the same blond hair as Nadia’s plopped onto the bench next to Harshaw, who only gave the newcomer a sideways glance. 

“Good afternoon to the three of you, especially to my big sister and to the commander’s favorite,” he greeted. Zoya’s jaw automatically twitched and Nadia raised a brow of surprise. Harshaw chuckled. 

Nadia greeted him with a smile that covered Zoya's displeasure. “Good afternoon to you too, Adrik. Sweet of you to join us.”

Adrik smiled, poking his fork at a piece of fish and chewed it with enthusiasm. After a moment, he swallowed and said, “Everyone has a long face today. Cheer up, there’s more bad news.”

If it weren’t for the fact that he was three years younger than her and shared the same experience of the war at a young age of fifteen, Zoya would have made a sarcastic jab at the boy. But she had long since admitted to herself that she was fond of the younger Squaller. He was always determined to do better in training despite the absence of his other summoning arm, which he had lost in the war three years ago.

The Second Army needed more unbreakable spirits like him.

“Have you heard about the news at Halmhend?” Adrik asked. “They’re having a hard time pushing back the Fjerdan advancements.”

Now _that_ was bad news. They’d defended and held Halmhend steady on its feet for years. If they lost the first defense at the country’s borders, it would only be a matter of time before they lose the ones next to it. Zoya fought the urge to wince and took a sip from her glass instead. 

She was surprised when it was Harshaw who spoke first. “Isn’t the Commander leading the defense?” he asked, reaching a hand up to the tabby as it seemed to shrink back further behind his head. Maybe the cat sensed the bad news Adrik was delivering.

“Not exactly, he was asked to aid at the border by Colonel Raevsky at least two weeks ago.”

“Raevsky?” echoed Nadia. “Isn’t he supposed to be stationed at Kribirsk?”

Zoya released a rough breath. “It could only mean one thing,” she said, “it’s _that_ bad at Halmhend.”

She knew about the defenses at the border almost being toppled down, and that was why when the request of aid came by in the middle of the day two weeks ago, Zoya didn’t hesitate to volunteer in defending the borders. Ravka had called for help, and she would respond to its call in a heartbeat.

But the Commander refused her offer and made her stay in the Little Palace, saying that she had more use in the capital. She had _nearly_ lashed out at him as she was gravely insulted, but years serving under the Second Army had taught her to bite her tongue when ordered directly by someone of higher rank, so Zoya had relented.

Thinking back to that time only made her fume again.

“You’re murdering someone in your mind, aren’t you?” Nadia waved a hand to her face and Zoya was brought out of her stupor. The blonde pointed down at her hand. “With a little more force, you could probably break that.”

Zoya followed the direction of Nadia’s finger and saw that she had been holding the glass so tightly in her hand that her knuckles turned white. Adrik had a grimace on his face and was looking at her warily. Even Harshaw turned his attention to her. Letting her breath steady, Zoya loosened her grip from the glass.

“Easy does it, yeah?” Adrik let out a laugh, albeit sounding nervous, and the tension in the air started to deflate. Harshaw turned back to feeding his cat. 

“Where did you get that news from, anyway?” asked Zoya. The relief was obvious on Adrik’s face when she spoke in her usual flat tone. He must have expected worse. “I doubt you heard that _around_.”

The boy’s smile was smug. “I _did_ hear it from _around_. You know how loud and rowdy some of the First Army soldiers are.”

“The one thing I agree with you on.” She tipped the glass to his direction in respect.

“Anyway, enough with the bad news. Are you all going to the lower town for the festivities? It’s the feast of Sankt Juris tonight.”

Nadia perked up, excitement blooming on her face. “Oh, Saints. I totally forgot about that.”

“You always forget everything,” Zoya agreed, making Adrik chuckle warmly.

“Sure, _general_ ,” the blonde countered with a mocking smile, and Zoya had to give her credit for knowing what to reply and how to rile her up. Nadia turned her attention to her brother. “It seems like _you_ have plans for tonight, dear. Are you inviting anyone?”

Adrik was quick to deny, waving his hands dismissively. “Not really. None,” he said, but the redness of his ears told them the opposite. Then he added, “As if I have someone to invite.” 

Zoya hummed, and Nadia raised a knowing brow. 

“None at all?”

The young man avoided their stares. Now it became blatantly obvious.

“Well,” said Zoya, fluffing her hair over her shoulder, “I guess our dear Adrik isn’t that brave after all.”

Adrik turned to both of them sharply, a deep frown plastered on his face. “Hate to break it to you two, but I already asked her earlier at breakfast,” he said all too quickly. His eyes widened as he realized what he just said. He bit on the bait faster than Zoya would have expected.

Nadia laughed while Harshaw only shrugged, but his face had shown a rare sign of amusement. Zoya looked rather pleased with herself.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she said with a small smile, which she almost _never_ did, and nodded towards Adrik’s direction. “She’s lovely, the Fabrikator. Never loses her sunshine even at the worst times.”

“Be good to her,” Nadia added. “She has my permission to kick your ass if you’re not.”

Adrik nodded, rolling his eyes. “Of course,” he replied. He turned to the women with an expectant look. “Are you guys going?”

Zoya sighed. She really wasn’t one for festivities, but she needed a distraction from the dreams that had been plaguing her, and maybe the feast of Sankt Juris would help draw her mind away from it. 

Besides, she hadn’t missed a single feast of Sankt Juris in the past few years. Perhaps this time of year was always troubling for her.

“Sure, we’re all going,” replied Zoya. Then she turned to their Inferni. “Right, Harshaw?” 

The redhead jolted from his seat, like he’d forgotten that he was there with them. He turned to them with a smile. “Yes, yes. Wouldn’t want to miss my favorite holiday of the year.”

The streets of the lower town of Os Alta were much more lively at night when the shop owners would light up the lanterns lining the edges of the roofs and posts. Tonight was even brighter with the additional torches set up on the sidewalks, reaching up until the town square, accentuating the embodiment of the great saint who had once slain a dragon. 

Zoya shrugged the cloak tighter around her as the three of them made their way to the square, Harshaw and Nadia on her sides. 

Adrik had insisted he and Leoni—the Fabrikator girl he had invited to the festival tonight—go ahead first to watch the Parade of Flames, which marched from the upper main town to the lower one. Nadia had waved him off with a wink while she and Zoya waited for Harshaw by the gates of the Grand Palace. 

Apparently, the Inferni had a hard time ‘convincing’ Oncat to come with them, as the tabby had hidden under his bed in the dormitory. But after a few words from the man, the cat had finally come out from its hiding spot.

The main square was finally in sight. A makeshift stage had already been setup by the fountain at its center, ready for the short reenactment of Sankt Juris’ martyrdom. People had already gathered around the stage, looking excited for the night’s performance. The festival had long since been celebrated largely in Os Alta amidst the war, but it was still honored by the people. 

Zoya had never once missed the celebration, but thinking back to last year’s festival was a foggy memory to her, and she didn’t know why.

“You’re making that face again,” Nadia mused, snapping the raven-haired storm out of her thoughts. “We are in the middle of a festival celebration and yet your frown remains.”

“My frown is etched onto my features and will remain here until we see Halmhend survive on its own feet.” Zoya wrinkled her nose as she looked up at the night sky, void of anything but a few patches of cloud and an almost full moon. She still couldn’t quite shake the uneasiness that she felt as they went down to the lower village. 

There was just. . . something _off_ with the winds tonight.

Nadia waved a hand. “You need a drink, general. There’s a small tavern at the corner of this street. We’ll have the view of the stage from there. It’s the most ideal spot for—Harshaw, do _not_ play with fire.”

The Inferni quickly backtracked from the torch nearest to him, like a child being caught red-handed, and extinguished the fire he got from the torch off his fingertips. Oncat curled over his head and peered at Nadia with wide eyes.

“I was checking something,” Harshaw mumbled, averting his eyes and reaching a hand up to ruffle the cat’s fur. Then, mostly to the tabby, he added, “I know how to handle fire.” He walked the street towards the tavern while murmuring to Oncat, leaving them behind.

“Well, we should let him lead the way,” said Zoya, and Nadia agreed with a nod. 

They followed Harshaw closely, with Nadia’s eye occasionally flicking back to the man’s movements with his hand and Zoya looking around for potential commotions. It was better safe than sorry later on. She knew better than to wave off and ignore her intuition, it might be the only thing to save her when the time came.

The tavern came into view—a small, bungalow-type building that might have once been a house now turned into a business. Its name was painted on a carelessly hung slab of wood by the edge of the roof over the porch, and by the looks of the writing, it had been renewed numerous times in the past. 

“ _Grim Hounds_ ,” Zoya read the sign.. 

“Home of the strongest whiskey in town,” said Nadia as the three of them climbed the wooden steps of the tavern. She pointed towards the vacant table at the far left of the porch. “Settle down there, I’ll get the drinks.”

Zoya raised a brow at the woman as she disappeared through the shop’s front door. It was very rare to see Nadia be the first one to pay for their drinking, let alone welcoming the idea of alcohol. Perhaps tonight was one of those rare times. 

“I’m surprised she started off with whiskey immediately,” said Harshaw as he walked over to the table Nadia had pointed at, and Zoya followed in tow.

“I’m surprised she even _mentioned_ drinking.”

“Good take.”

The Inferni sat nearest to the wall of the pub as Zoya took the seat opposite of him, removing the roughspun cloak from her shoulders and hanging it on the backrest of the seat. Chatter by the fountain became louder as the crowd’s number began to double, and she looked over her shoulder to see the rest of props being brought on the stage. The Parade of Flames must have finished its rounds in the towns. 

Zoya turned away from the square. It would still take some time for the play to start, and the stage was at their vantage point. She narrowed her eyes at Harshaw, who had his flint on hand, casually running it on the table’s edge. A few sparks flew off from it and vanished in the air. The man looked slightly tense.

“What’s up with you?” Zoya asked. It wasn’t unusual to see Harshaw acting peculiar, but something was bothering him. 

“I don’t really know,” Harshaw replied without missing a beat. His hand stopped moving when he rubbed the flint a little too harshly, and he lit a small flame on his fingers. It vanished with a flick of his hand. “But I feel something is off tonight.”

Zoya stilled. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the fire from the torches earlier. They seem to move in all directions, almost put out, and yet I feel no strong wind around.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It means the wind pattern is messed up. Something is moving in the air.”

Nadia burst from the door before Zoya could pry further. That was what she probably felt when they got down from the gates of the palace. It brought a little relief to her that she hadn’t been the only one to notice the difference in the air, but the words Harshaw had told her only heightened her defenses even more.

“Sorry about the delay. There’s a bit of a line at the counter, but take this as a token from me.” Nadia placed a half-full bottle of whiskey at the center of the table, along with three small glasses. She pulled the chair to Zoya’s right and said, “All the way from Kerch.”

“It must have cost a ton.” Zoya wiped the dust that accumulated at the cap with the sleeve of her _kefta_ before opening it. “Where did you get the money for this?”

“I have a secret stash.”

“Probably not so secret anymore now that you’ve announced it in front of us.”

“Touché.” Nadia snatched the bottle from Zoya’s hand and proceeded to fill their glasses one by one. 

Harshaw still looked tense, but at least he tucked his flint back in the pocket of his _kefta_ and reached for the glass nearest to him. Oncat had leapt down from his shoulders and perched herself on the wooden fence to Harshaw’s right. The cat looked alert.

Zoya turned her attention back to the table when the glass was set down in front of her, filled to the brim with the brownish liquid. She frowned over the drink and asked, “Are you planning to get us all drunk tonight?”

“It’s a rest day. Don’t you want to make the best of it?” asked Nadia as she raised her glass. 

“When it comes from you, I am a bit wary to do so,” Zoya answered, but she raised her glass nonetheless.

“To the Dragon Saint.”

They clinked their glasses together, muttering the same words. It sounded funny to Zoya’s ears, but was forgotten as soon as the burn of the liquor hit her throat and made her grit her teeth. _Home of the strongest whiskey, indeed._

Behind her, the crowd cheered, and Zoya turned to look at the stage. The play was starting. 

“It’s amazing how they keep people watching the play every year,” Nadia mused, already filling their glasses again. Zoya had to commend the other woman’s determination to drink tonight. 

“They know how to add something new to their show yearly.” She took the glass from Nadia’s hand. “I wonder what they have up in their sleeves tonight.”

Zoya remembered the time when the crew behind the play recruited a few Inferni to make the dragon’s flames more realistic, and a Squaller to control its direction as it swept above the whole crowd. 

In the myths and stories, it was told that Juris had fought the dragon a total of three times before he was finally able to deliver the killing blow on the beast. Some of the past plays had only covered one, but maybe this year it would be like in the stories. As the actor who portrayed Juris dropped into a fighting stance, the crowd went silent.

The silence stretched on as Zoya downed the drink in hand, and the silence broke into a series of hushed whispers. There was a sound of flapping wings nearby, causing an agitated hiss from Oncat. The tabby sat back on its back toes before she jumped overhead and disappeared by the roof. 

Harshaw bolted from his seat and leaned over the wooden railing. He craned his neck to the roof. “Oncat!” he called out.

Zoya felt it again; that _wrongness_ in the air. It was now heavier than earlier. She stood up from her seat and went down the porch, looking up at the night sky. 

“What was that?” Nadia asked from the table. She had put down the bottle and followed Zoya out on the porch. She must have heard it too. “That definitely didn’t sound like a small bird.”

The crowd suddenly applauded, and it made the two of them turn towards the stage. A winged-figure had burst from the backstage and into the air, circling above the crowd as it stared down the actor. 

Zoya raised a brow, not quite believing her eyes. “They _really_ are making this realistic this year.”

“Is that a vulture?” Nadia asked, breathless. 

“I think so.”

There wasn’t anything attached to it—perhaps a leash or a rope just in case the bird went feral—so Zoya watched it carefully from the distance. The vulture’s features were hard to make out against the dark sky, but she did notice the way its wings were shaped in an unnatural angle, sharp and edged. 

Zoya squinted. “Nadia, don’t you think it looks—”

She wasn’t able to finish when the creature suddenly stopped and poised forward, like a predator spotting its prey. A chill ran down her back as she watched the winged-figure move. 

It dove straight to the actor onstage with a blinding speed.

Even from her position, she could see the way the actor tried to get away from the creature’s advance. But it was too fast and it struck the man with enough force to knock him down. It raised its sharp talons and struck. The man fell limp.

Now that it came down to the stage where the lights were abundant and everything was clearly visible, its features devoid of anything but darkness and claws, it was most certainly _not_ a vulture.

Zoya didn’t know when or where the screams started, but they only got louder as seconds ticked by. Everyone was running in all different directions; some had bumped into her when they bolted past to get away from the square. Her reflexes kicked in, and the next second, she was pushing against the wave of people running in the opposite direction. 

A shot rang out somewhere to her left. Zoya turned at the direction the sound came from, and recognized the olive shade of the First Army uniform on several men. The creature turned its attention to the soldiers and it reared back, ready to pounce. 

Series of gunfire erupted and hit the monster, but it didn’t seem fazed from the barrage and launched towards them.

Zoya acted immediately, throwing an arm out and creating a wind barrier in front of the group of soldiers before the creature could completely run them down. It bounced back against the shield. Zoya clenched her fist and with a pull of her arm, the wind morphed into a gust that sent the monster sprawling away from the soldiers.

“Get the people away from the vicinity and send a warning to the palace,” Zoya shouted at the men who were now obviously shaken with fear. It took all her will not to knock them on their heads. “Sound the alarm!”

“ _Zoya!_ ”

She turned just in time to see the monster making its way towards her before a line of fire ignited its way across the pavement, halting the creature’s movements. The fire rose higher, guided by the wind, and it reached over the creature who let out a piercing shriek as if it was in pain. She looked to her right. 

Harshaw and Nadia.

Zoya faced the soldiers. “ _Go!_ ”

The monster launched in the air, and Zoya felt a smirk on her lips. _Wrong move to expose yourself further._ She felt the energy crackle in her fingertips as the first signs of thunder rumbled in the skies. 

_Redirect the bolt from one hand to the other if necessary,_ she reminded herself, _don’t let it take the detour inside your body._

The lightning charged through her arm, and she let it flow out from her fingertips. She braced a foot back to keep herself upright as the energy coursed through her. It created a sound that resembled a loud crack, tearing through the air, heading directly to the monster. 

But even before it hit the target, the monster veered left, diving low towards the ground. The lightning shot wide in the sky and vanished. Zoya let out a rough breath and felt sweat trickling down from her neck from summoning the bolt. 

It only took a blink for the monster to seize Harshaw in its talons and drag him up. The Inferni let out a scream as he struggled against the claws buried in his shoulders. 

“Harshaw!” Nadia quickly spread her arms wide and pulled back, trying to push the monster backwards with the wind, but it moved too fast and it was way beyond reach.

Zoya cursed under her breath as she took off to follow the monster, not wasting the time to wait for the other soldiers to take care of the scene. The creature had disappeared from sight, so she mostly relied on a trick that she’d learnt a few years back: feeling the winds’ pattern for any disruption big enough to mess it up.

 _Something is moving in the air,_ Zoya heard Harshaw’s voice from earlier echo in her head, and it gave her a new wave of determination to keep up the pace. 

It eventually brought her to the outskirts of the lower town. She instantly knew that she was nearing the boundaries of the capital when the buildings and houses became less and less frequent, until there was only a wide stretch of grassland and the woods that separated the capital from the next city came into view. 

Zoya slowed to a stop as she hit the edge of the woods. The wind suddenly felt quiet, serene, and the movements in the breeze from the creature stopped here. It brought uneasiness to her. Whatever had taken Harshaw must have gone through here.

She looked over her shoulder. The faint lights from the last house on the boundary gave little help to see the expanse before her, and she mostly relied on light from the moon. No one was coming her way, not even Nadia had followed her, which was a little concerning. Zoya had expected Nadia to be behind her after the commotion at the square.

A faint snarl erupted somewhere to her left, and she turned to its source immediately, squinting over the uneven trail on the ground. It looked like someone had been dragged, small ditches supposedly made by human heels running across the path. Frowning over the newfound evidence, Zoya walked along the trail, careful not to make a sound. It went along over several yards, until it curved and disappeared by the roots of a beech tree. She looked beyond the trunk, only to see nothing but darkness.

The wind picked up all of a sudden, rustling the leaves of the woods, making it sound like a series of hisses from angry townspeople, and with its sound came a loudening growl. 

Zoya took a step back and suddenly, claws clamped on her shoulder and her feet were lifted off the ground. She screamed, struggling against her flying captor. The ground seemed too far below already. She pushed her arm forward to summon a gust and push the monster back, and this time, the claws holding her were gone but she felt the tear in her flesh from the spot they had been. 

She plummeted to the ground, thrusting her palm out just in time to whip a draft of air to cushion her fall, though she still landed hard. Pain erupted on her side as she struggled to get up, the sudden growl from behind her only adding to the need to hasten her movements. Spots were flying across her vision as the monster inched towards her, and only then was she able to see the creature up close.

Despite the sharp wings that sprouted on its back and the talons on its arms, there was no denying the fact that it looked _human_. 

It hovered over Zoya, its snarl reverberating in her ears, talons raised to strike, but she was still too shocked to move.

This was _not_ the one she saw from the square.

The monster brought down its talons, and Zoya braced herself for the pain. 

It never came. 

Instead, it reared back, inclining its head to the side as if it was scrutinizing her. 

Zoya knew it was time to react. She had almost let her pained daze get the best of her, and she intended not to make the same mistake again. She nearly blacked out as she raised her arm to summon a gust of wind with the last of her strength, the pain shooting up her side and shoulder. But then a _whoosh_ cut through the air and something hit the monster with a thump, followed by a primal shriek.

A hooded figure entered her line of sight and it stood over the writhing monster, watching closely.

“Kill it,” Zoya said, voice hoarse from the pain burning in her shoulder. “Kill it or I will.”

The figure whirled around to face her as if he—or _she_ —hadn’t noticed Zoya on the ground, features obscured with the help of the hood and the darkness. They looked at her for a good whole minute, and if they heard her, they did the opposite of what she’d advised.

The figure held an arm out, and suddenly Zoya felt her eyes become heavy with exhaustion, her heart rate slowing. _Heartrender,_ she thought grimly. 

“Apologies, general,” the voice— _a woman’s_ —said softly.

Something flashed in her mind, but it was overcome by the drowsiness that loomed over her, and then everything went black.


	2. The Gilded Bog

##  **TWO – The Gilded Bog**

_“The faintest of lights is enough to shatter the endless darkness.”_

The only way to tame a beast was to feed it. 

At least, that was what Nikolai had believed. But when he was having an exceptionally difficult time shoving the monster back to wherever it hid, he found that feeding it only made it worse. 

“Nikolai, focus,” a voice somewhere near him said. 

Nikolai fought the urge to say something sarcastic. Focus was definitely one of his weaknesses, especially when he was in his current state. But he knew he was slowly coming back to himself, now; the voice sounded clear and he understood what it meant. 

_You’re stronger than this_ , he chastised himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nikolai felt the monster laugh at the thought like it was mocking him. Amidst the battle for the control of his own mind, he thought of the seas. The ruthless winds that hit his ship’s sails during his travels. The raging storms that knocked him off his feet but gave him a reason to keep going. 

He held onto them tightly like a lifeline, and at last— _at last_ —the monster slowly retracted back into the depths, and Nikolai finally recognized the breathless laughs he made with his own voice.

The first things he saw when his vision finally cleared were his hands, mostly black with months of, almost every night, turning into a monster. They were clasping tightly on a bunch of dead leaves and branches on the forest floor. 

“Nikolai?” 

He whipped his head to the direction of the voice and saw Tamar crouching down at least several feet away from him, hands resting on the handle on one of her axes. _Precautionary measures just in case I decide to tear off one of her limbs,_ he mused. Her golden eyes were gentle but wary.

“It’s me,” Nikolai replied, voice raspy from the aftermath of the darkness that took over him. He pushed himself up to stand, but his legs felt too wobbly and he ended up sitting instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “Where are we?” 

Tamar’s voice was grim. “The woods just outside east Os Alta.” 

“Saints.” He had come so _close_ to the capital. “What did I do this time?”

The Shu mercenary remained silent and Nikolai closed his eyes tightly. He could only hope he hadn’t massacred someone else’s farm animals again as he did about three months ago.

“That bad?”

“You did cause quite the distress.”

“Ah, but I always do, ever since I left my redhead façade in the seas.”

“That is one way to say it nicely, Your Highness,” Tamar agreed, though a bit hesitantly, and he knew she was hiding something.

Nikolai looked over to the woman, one of the twins he trusted his life with, and said, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Her face became stony. “You wouldn’t want to hear it,” she said, shrugging off the roughspun cloak from her shoulders and tossing it over to him before he could even ask what she meant with her statement. “Here. Tolya’s checking the sideroads. He should be back any minute now.”

The first signs of sunlight seeped through the branches and illuminated their surroundings in a bask of yellowish light. It was a bit daunting to think that it had taken him until early in the morning to revert back to himself. Usually after turning during the late hours of the night, it would only take a few hours before he turned back. 

Now that it had taken this long, Nikolai knew that he needed to destroy the darkness within him as soon as possible.

The crunch of footsteps among the fallen leaves sounded nearby. Tolya emerged from behind one of the large tree barks that provided cover for Nikolai in the several minutes before he was in human form again. He wore the same roughspun cloak Tamar gave Nikolai earlier, but instead of a hood, Tolya had a cloth that covered the lower half of his face. He pulled it down below his chin before he spoke.

“No signs of activity on the road yet. It’s only half past six bells. We’ll get back to the Bog within an hour,” Tolya told Tamar before casting a glance at Nikolai and offering a hand to him. “You look terrible.”

Nikolai huffed a laugh as he took the tall man’s hand and was hauled up to his feet. “Thank you, Tolya. I’m glad we both think alike.”

“Can you walk?”

“I think I had learned that skill as early as seven months old.”

With that, he took a step, and found out that he couldn’t take another. A terrible tremor swept through Nikolai as he fought to stand upright. It was a good thing that the twins kept him from falling face first on the uneven ground. The aftermath of reverting back from the monster always resulted in him feeling exhausted.

“Alright, I take that back.”

Tolya chuckled and kept a hand on Nikolai’s shoulder as Tamar pulled his arm up and draped it over her own shoulders. He felt like he was utterly helpless at that point—which he most certainly was, Nikolai reminded himself—and it pricked his pride heavily. A monarch could ill afford showing any signs of weakness, but circumstances deemed it necessary. 

Tamar started guiding Nikolai through the forest, with Tolya leading ahead. The man knew his way around the area well, even in darkness, and Nikolai was thankful he hadn’t attacked any of them yet.

“Do you mind talking?” he asked a moment later, wincing as his toe connected with the protruding roots of a tree. “The occasional crunches of these dead leaves give me a hint of how I must have sounded when I attacked the cattle those months ago.”

“Asking my brother to talk is begging for him to recite poetry,” said Tamar with a light scoff.

Tolya glanced over his shoulder, a smile gracing his lips, and said, “Do you wish to hear the epic poetry I had recited for a week back then?”

Nikolai couldn’t help but laugh over the memory. “I think I’d heard enough to last me until the end of my days.”

“I’m only suggesting.”

“Worry not, dear Tolya, this damsel in distress can’t do anything to stop you if you try reciting some of it now.”

Though he said it jokingly, Nikolai found the echo of his words hitting him differently after it sunk in. Being pessimistic was always the last in his list of traits. But as time went on, the trait slowly made its way to the top and he couldn’t do anything to prevent it.

Tamar must have felt the shift in his mood, because suddenly she was nudging his arm higher over her shoulder, making him stand up straighter. “I thought you left the brooding face back in Volkvony? It’s showing up again.”

A few feet ahead of them, Tolya let out a low laugh. 

Nikolai narrowed his eyes on the giant’s back. “I think it found its way back to me. I remember not putting it on a leash when I left it.”

“Then you should get rid of it again.”

“Easier said than done, dearest Tamar.”

The trees started to thicken as they got deeper into the forest, and brushes that hung over the barks became much more abundant. The road just outside the forest would be a more direct route back to the Bog, but they couldn’t risk being seen in their current state by other people, or worse being seen by the Commander’s men.

Tolya stopped, lifting a hand to push some of the branches out of the way. But before he removed them completely, he turned to Nikolai. “The faintest of lights is enough to shatter the endless darkness.” He gave a nod, jaw set and determined. “We’ll find a way out of this. Just like we always do.”

Nikolai felt Tamar’s hand grip his shoulder in agreement to her brother’s statement, she nodded, and he couldn’t help but let a small, grateful smile form on his lips. They were some of the most dangerous mercenaries he had ever encountered, and he hired them to escort him through the seas at a certain timespan when he did his privateer work. 

But he never thought that decision would grant him two loyal people that he would later consider his family. Perhaps he wasn’t all bad luck, horrible decisions, and curses _._

Nikolai returned the nod with his own. “Thank you,” he said softly. It was rare to have vulnerable moments like these, to be able to lay down the disguises he put up around him, so he let the moment pass before he put his mask back on. “Now let’s head back to the Bog before my legs buckle and I actually start weeping on the ground.”

Tolya chuckled and shook his head, while Tamar hit Nikolai at the back of his knees with a toe, causing him to tip forward. 

“Way to ruin the moment,” Tamar said good-naturedly as they ducked under the branches Tolya held up for them.

Nikolai laughed. “I try my best.” 

At least an hour later, the three of them were still following along the familiar trail that led back to their hidden estate, several miles east of the capital. It had served as their headquarters for years, when the confines of both the Grand and Little Palace felt too exposed for Nikolai, and it was the only place safe for him to stay, especially during the times the _damned_ darkness took over.

The trail went steep. When the ground leveled back, Nikolai could already see the end of the path that opened to the small clearing outside the Bog. Some of the heaviness on his shoulders disappeared as they neared the estate; the feeling of finally coming home.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but I can already feel Genya’s anxiety all the way from here,” Nikolai said, squinting from the sunlight.

Tolya shrugged and replied, “We can’t blame her. We’ve been gone the whole night.”

“Do you think David put his book down?”

“That would be impossible.”

Nikolai opened his mouth to answer, but Tamar beat him to it. 

“ _Don’t._ ” Her voice sounded exasperated. She shook her head when Nikolai looked at her expectantly. “We both know what you were going to say. Let’s save your energy for answering Genya’s questions.”

“Good take.” He chuckled. “Though I wonder how—”

Nikolai was cut off when Tamar stopped abruptly and they almost bumped into Tolya's towering figure. He frowned, trying to see over the giant’s shoulder on what made him stop.

The uphill path that curved towards the manor was already on their right, and yet Tolya did not budge from his place. 

“Tolya, what is it?” Tamar asked, guiding Nikolai with her so that they were standing beside her twin. “Really—oh.”

Nikolai blinked as a woman standing by her horse at the other side of the clearing raised a hand to catch their attention.

“Excuse me!” 

Tolya had put a hand behind him and signaled at them to move back. Though Nikolai didn’t see the older woman as a threat, it was better to be vigilant than dismissive. Besides, if she was a real threat, the twins were experienced enough at handling the given situation.

They watched the woman carefully as she nudged her horse forwards and walked towards them. She didn’t look that much older up close, probably around forty, with a shock of ebony hair that reminded Nikolai of someone.

“Good morning, and apologies if I have startled you but I seem to be lost,” the woman said. She held a map in her hands, her eyebrows narrowed as she skimmed over the surface with a finger. “I’m headed to the capital, and yet I had been going around in circles until I came about here.”

If the woman noticed Nikolai’s slumped form leaning over Tamar, she didn’t show it. Beside him, Tamar gripped her exposed axe and pushed it to the back of her belt. Nikolai felt a little conscious about his hands, so he tried to hide them in the cloak’s sleeves as much as possible.

Tolya stepped forwards and examined the map, letting his fingers trace the lines of rivers and paths. He started guiding with his hand the directions to where the woman should head to, but then at last he said, “I could guide you to the nearest main road that will lead you to one of the capital’s entrances. It’s quite a long trek down the trail.”

Tamar let out a disapproving grunt, almost inaudibly, but Nikolai understood what the man was doing. He was trying to make sure that she was telling the truth about being lost, and didn’t have other intentions.

The woman beamed, a grateful expression blooming on her face. “Oh, thank you, young man. I was about to go up to the manor to ask for directions, but it seemed too intimidating.” She paused and finally glanced at Nikolai, who immediately tensed. A worried crease appeared between her eyebrows. “You look terrible, love. Too much to drink last night?”

Nikolai was taken aback. Of all the questions of suspicion he had prepared himself to answer, _that_ was the last on his list.

“Yes,” Tamar replied, nudging Nikolai with a knee. “Turned a pub upside down.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at the excuse, but he went along with it and winced in pretense. “Just a throbbing headache,” Nikolai said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

“I think I have a remedy for that.” The woman grabbed something from her satchel and handed it over to them. “It’s a brew I make back in Novokribirsk. Don’t worry, it’s purely herbal. Good for soothing dumb headaches. I’m supposed to give that to my niece in the capital, but I guess you’re in need of it more.”

Tamar took it with a murmur of thanks and examined the small bottle for a moment before putting it in her pocket. A look of confusion appeared on the woman’s face and she turned back to Nikolai. 

“Do you live up there?”

He found himself nodding against his better judgment, and he heard Tamar mutter something under her breath. It was an honest question from the woman; he had assumed, at least. If there was another thing Nikolai was good at, it was looking past a person’s disguise. The older woman’s gaze only held curiosity. 

Unless she was someone _really_ good at hiding her true self. Someone who had infinite masks to cover up her true identity. Someone like _Nikolai_.

_Eyes never lie, Your Highness._

He was reminded of that line said to him, and he almost laughed bitterly at the memory. _Ah, the windows to the soul, they say. But what if the soul is long gone and there is nothing else to see other than a dark void?_ he had replied out of spite, and the rest of the conversation blurred to a mist of heated arguments. 

He _badly_ needed a drink.

The woman nodded in understanding, her confused expression dissipating. “It’s quite a peculiar place to put up such a building, but the greens around sure give it a peaceful scenery.” 

Nikolai smiled. “It sure does.” _And it’s a perfectly hidden place amidst the woods and near the capital. But somehow you found yourself in this terrain._

“I wish you well, young man.”

She offered Nikolai a smile and a polite bow before she turned to Tolya, who gestured to the opposite side where the three of them had come from. Tolya nodded at them, and Nikolai and Tamar watched the two disappear down the trail before Tamar guided him to the graveled path that led to the Bog. 

“I know, I know,” Nikolai said as they arrived in front of the Bog’s iron gates.

“What?” Tamar pushed the gates open with her free hand.

“You’re strangling me in many different ways in your mind because of my foolishness. Tolya is probably thinking the same thing.”

“He’s probably thinking of more poetry to annoy you with when he gets back.”

“Oh, dear me.”

Tamar guided them across the front lawn and up the few steps before the double doors. She raised a fist to the wooden surface, ready to knock, but the doors opened before she could, revealing a distraught Genya on the threshold. Her red hair was tied in a bun and her roughspun cloak was already on. She must’ve been heading out to find them.

“ _Holy saints_ ,” the redhead swore loudly. She held Nikolai’s face with both hands, her remaining eye examining him. She frowned and said, “You look terrible.”

Nikolai sighed. “Thank you, dear. You’re the third person to tell me that within the last hour.”

They pushed the doors wider and stepped inside. 

When Nikolai had designed the Bog, he hadn’t really planned to make it grandiose. He had intended it to be enough to make a headquarters that could house several people without feeling cramped, along with sufficient supplies and necessities. But it seemed that the part of his mind that desired to make things with a twist came out the night he decided to draw the structure’s design. 

The entrance made its way to a small lobby, with the staircase by the right side, leading to a massive second floor split into chambers, and he thought of tucking himself back to bed and sleeping for the rest of the day. But bringing himself up the steps and to his rooms would take another eternity, and his head was already spinning. 

And he knew Tamar was definitely exhausted.

As if sensing his thoughts, Nikolai was led to the left, to the direction of the parlor, and the Shu mercenary guided—more like _flopped_ —him down in the nearest chair by the fireplace. He leaned back comfortably on the backrest, putting a hand up to his temple and closing his eyes. 

Being back in the Bog seemed to drain what was left of his strength and he wasn’t sure if he should sleep or grab a drink. Or drink himself to sleep. The latter was definitely inviting.

“What happened?” a voice asked.

Nikolai snapped his eyes open in surprise. “He did put down his book,” he told Tamar, who was lounging at the armrest of the couch beside his chair. 

David frowned from behind Genya’s own chair, his glasses falling down on his nose. The man had his hand on the backrest and the other by his side. There was no book.

“I guess Tolya was wrong, then.”

Tamar shrugged. “Rare times,” she said. “David putting down his book is like Nikolai not speaking for a whole five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” echoed Genya. “One minute of Nikolai not uttering a single word is already impossible.” Then she raised a finger even before Nikolai could open his mouth to reply. “And please, don’t.”

Nikolai scowled. “Why isn’t anybody letting me say it?”

“Where is Tolya, anyway?” asked David. 

There was a short silence, then Tamar broke it. “Someone had discovered this place.”

Genya’s eye widened and David blinked in confusion. Nikolai couldn’t blame them. It had been a while since a soul had come near the Bog; the last had been when the Commander barged in the estate and carved the darkness into Nikolai’s heart. They had limited trips outside as much as possible—Tamar or Tolya would go to the neighboring towns to scrape any information they could about what was going on in the Grand Palace, when the darkness would be too powerful and Nikolai would slip from their grasp.

But aside from that, there wasn’t anywhere else to go.

“Tolya guided her back to the main road. She didn’t look like a potential threat, just someone lost in the woods on her way to the capital,” added Tamar. 

Nikolai said, “If she was a danger to us, I think our Tolya could handle it.”

“He can handle a small fight.” Tamar took out the bottle from her pocket and tossed it to the redhead. “Though I’d still like a double-check on this.”

Genya caught it with ease, holding up the bottle against the light. “What did she say this was?”

“A remedy for headaches,” Nikolai replied as he remembered the woman’s words. “Purely herbal. I just hope she was telling the truth or I’d be disappointed.”

The redhead eyed it for another moment before removing the cap and putting the rim by her nose. “She might be telling the truth,” she said, and then, much to all of their bewilderment, she tipped the bottle to her mouth. 

" _Genya—_ ” David started.

“There’s mint in it,” said Genya, fastening the cap back on. “Purely herbal.”

Nikolai exhaled roughly. “Genya, that was dangerous and unwise. Something bad might have happened to you,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm but failed. He always knew they would do anything for him, as much as he’d do the same for them, but not like _this_. “What if it was—” 

“I know poisons when I see and smell them.” Genya tossed the bottle back to Tamar, and then gave a rueful smile to Nikolai. “And don’t worry. I’ve had much worse than that.”

He huffed weakly, knowing too well what the woman meant. She had witnessed the war itself, within the borders and against herself, and yet she was still here, fighting alongside him. It took a lot to get to where they were standing now, but it took everything to stay and continue to fight.

“Genya, I adore you. Be the one to wield that magical dagger, maybe?” 

Genya wrinkled her nose, lifted her chin, and said, “I should ask David for permission first.”

“I’d rather not,” David replied, voice a bit grim. Then he added, “Unless we want to watch Ravka plummet further into the mud.”

Leave it to David saying something straightforward; everything became dead silent. Sometimes a man of only a few words spoke smarter than a man who said too much. Nikolai found that he categorized himself as the latter. 

“Will you be able to brew a much stronger tonic?” he asked Genya, who looked up at him sharply as if he’d asked her the secret to her poisons. “This” —he jabbed at his chest with a finger— “is getting stronger day by day. I’m afraid that the chains and the current tonic aren’t enough to hold it down anymore.”

“I can mix something stronger, but I can’t guarantee its side effects to your wellbeing if you continue intaking it.” Genya shook her head. “We’re already treading a dangerous line with the current tonic. Anything stronger than that could kill you.”

“Wasn’t that the point when dear big brother sent the Black Heretic marching here?”

To his surprise, David made a grunt of protest. “Nikolai, this is different.”

“Probably. But if it can guarantee that I don’t come wandering that close to the capital like last night, I _will_ take it.”

“You’ve reached the capital?” Genya asked, bewildered.

Nikolai lowered his head with a sigh, and Tamar replied, “Unfortunately. Though it was a good thing he hadn’t decided to land somewhere in either town and stayed by the boundaries.”

On the few occasions when Nikolai slipped through their leash, the directions he had always gone led towards Os Alta. But last night had been the closest call. Who knew what could’ve happened if the monster had appeared in the towns during the festivities?

But then he remembered Tamar’s expression from the forest earlier, like there was something important untold with the way her voice had carried out hesitation. Nikolai decided not to press further.

“Tolya almost lost sight of him in the lower town. It was a good thing Nikolai faltered from taking off towards the rows of houses.” 

Hearing the narration from Tamar caused another wave of throbbing pain through his head. He really ought to be put in a dungeon of reinforced steel. Though there was still something Nikolai could not understand; why had there only been a few times he escaped their clutches when he transformed almost every night? 

Genya sighed. “We’d have to add more chains around you. But I still don’t understand why you were able to destroy the ones holding you down last night when they’ve held you in the past,” she said. Then, exasperatedly, she added, “It’d be easier to track you down if _she’s_ —”

Tamar sent the redhead a warning look, and Genya dropped the statement completely. Nikolai pretended not to notice, but he knew Genya was right. _If only._

With a deep sigh, he said, “We don’t really have much of a choice.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know, my dear Tailor. None of us want this. But if I get much worse, I may endanger the people around me, and I won’t have that. For all we know, His Highness would have doubled the guards around the Grand Palace and focused on coddling his horses rather than maintaining the borders stand.”

Genya winced, and David put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She gave his hand a pat. “Hearing that only makes my head ache.”

“You’ve drank some of the contents of the remedy we received earlier. We’ll see if it is indeed effective for headaches.” Nikolai paused, then sighed, looking at the faces of the small circle of people that made his burdens a lot easier to bear. He’d never forgive himself if one of them got hurt because of him. “We do as much as we can on our side. Halmhend is still ours, which means there’s still hope for Vasily to steer Ravka properly in the upcoming weeks. But if this darkness continues to prevail, we have to settle for the last resort.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Nikolai hated to be the source of pessimism—he had always been the optimistic one. But he also knew better than to cover up the inevitable with a lie. 

“I don’t like it when you put it that way,” Tamar muttered, running a hand gently over one of her axes as if the act brought her comfort. 

Nikolai smiled weakly. “It only means I’m right and you agree with me.”

“She doesn’t like that either,” said Genya. 

“My sincerest apologies to all of you.” He tipped his head forward in a slight bow. Then he straightened up in his seat, pulling back on the mask of a monarch. Vulnerability could be saved for next time. “For now, we’ll settle for that stronger tonic. Let’s give myself a little more time with my favorite demon. I already knew I was doomed the moment the Commander stepped foot here. But maybe we still have a chance to get that ‘ _out_ ’ he gave me.”

“It’s still a dagger to the heart, Nikolai,” said David. For once, he had a worried crease on his eyebrow that wasn’t caused by the readings of a book. “We don’t know if you will survive it.”

“Then I would gladly leave with myself intact rather than dying as a complete monster.” _It is better to perish being yourself rather than being in a form of an abomination._ The words from the Black Heretic rang in his head, and Nikolai had to agree.

Tamar shifted in her seat. “And if that time comes?”

Nikolai grinned, the easygoing one that he always offered during serious situations to let them know he wasn’t easily swayed. But he knew there was a low possibility of him getting out alive. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”


	3. All Stories Are True

##  **THREE – All Stories Are True**

“ _ In the end, what  _ is _ scarier? The reminders of the past or the worries of the future? _ ”

It was a memory this time, Zoya was sure: the announcement of the Commander handling the Second Army. 

It came fast and abrupt, a few days before Crown Prince Vasily’s coronation, in the morning of Grisha training. Their former commander Bazin was said to have stepped down and retired after years of service, choosing to settle back down to his hometown in Adena. Zoya had frowned, a little wary about the suddenness of Bazin’s departure, but she recalled the man had been their commander for as long as she could remember and deserved the well-earned rest after so many wars. 

Then when the new Commander arrived, all dark hair and gray eyes and a blue  _ kefta _ lined with pale blue embroidery, there was something odd that he brought with him, something pulling and  _ dark. _

Zoya had been watching by the entrance of the training hall, eyeing the Commander from a distance as he gave an introductory speech to the students.

“I don’t trust him,” a voice from beside her mumbled. 

It startled her; she turned quickly to her left, and was surprised to see the clear face of a man. Zoya narrowed her eyes, trying to remember what he looked like before she woke up, but her vision was slowly blurring into a mix of colors. 

The man, with hazel eyes, raised a brow, a small grin on his lips. “Keep an eye on him, yeah?”

Everything disappeared completely, and the dream ended.

Zoya woke with a gasp. Her surroundings came into a sharp focus; the pale yellow walls of the infirmary greeting her sight, and her laying down on one of the cots. A wave of confusion hit her. What was she doing here? She tried to sit up, but pain shot up her body instantly, her mind clogging up when the rush of memories of what had happened came to her. 

The feast of Sankt Juris. The monster, and the other one from the outskirts. The attack. The hooded figure who had come to the scene and left her unconscious. The dream she had just now—the man with hazel eyes. And then Harshaw.

_ Harshaw _ .

“Zoya?”

Zoya turned and saw Nadia sitting in a chair to her right, looking at Zoya with obvious relief in her eyes. Nadia did not look alright.

“Thank the Saints, you’re awake.”

She reached out a hand to the blonde, who took it. “Harshaw,” she said, voice restrained from her too-dry throat. “Where is he?”

Nadia blinked and didn’t answer, clutching at Zoya’s hand. She looked like she was going to break; Zoya felt the other woman’s hand shaking. It was enough for her to understand the silence that stretched between them. Zoya turned away, eyes closed tightly, feeling the weight of the confirmation hit her in the gut.

“Adrik and Leoni appeared right when you took off. They were trying to get a hold of what was happening and then the alarms sounded,” said Nadia. Her voice was trembling. “We followed you where you took off to. We reached over the next few blocks when we ran into several Grisha on the street. They said they were sent down to check the vicinity of the scene, and that the creature was seen just outside the upper town.” She took a breath, and her next words came quiet. “It  _ vanished _ . They found Harshaw in an alleyway and—”

Zoya squeezed her hand and Nadia continued. “He was gone.  _ He was gone, Zoya. _ ” There was a long pause on her side, and only her ragged breaths were audible. “We held his funeral last night.”

The silence came again, but none of them decided to break it this time. Zoya had always known loss was inevitable—they were soldiers, lives always on the line. Somehow, she had hoped that Harshaw would survive after all of this. 

They all had their fair share of the wars in the past years, and they had pushed through that. But all it took was a monster to appear and take his life away. And Zoya had been chasing the wrong one after all that. Maybe if she had not been foolish—

She pushed down the thought, and yet she couldn’t help but blame herself. She wasn’t even able to attend his funeral.

It was never fair.

Zoya turned back to Nadia, who was wiping at her eyes with her free hand. “How long was I out?” she asked.

“Three whole days.” The blonde leaned forward on her chair, gently placing Zoya’s hand back to her side. “We found you in the fields just before the woods. You were bleeding and three of your ribs had been broken. What happened?”

The scene came back to her, and the fear that Zoya had felt when the monster brought her into the air resurfaced. “I was attacked,” she replied. Then she quietly added, “There was another one.”

Nadia sat up, eyes alert. “There’s another? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Zoya gave a firm nod. “This one looks more. . . human. I haven’t seen anything like it before.” She left out the details of the hooded figure that came to her aid, or her most recent dream, but she knew she had to tell Nadia about it later. “Don’t tell anyone about it yet.”

“Why so?”

“There is something weird around it I can’t quite place. I have to find out what it is.”

Nadia looked a bit wary, but she still nodded. “Alright.”

Zoya didn’t like leaving her friend in the dark, but if it meant keeping her away from a danger they knew nothing of, she would. She had already lost Harshaw, and she vowed not to lose anyone close to her again.

“By the way,” said Nadia, blinking back the tears still in her eyes, “your aunt is here.”

This caused Zoya to bolt upright, and she hissed when pain shot up her side. “Where is she?” She had forgotten about her aunt’s impending visit to the capital this week. 

Nadia glanced over her shoulder. “She arrived the morning after the festival. She’s been visiting you from time to time.” Then she added, “I talked with the Commander to let her in.”

This alarmed Zoya, her eyes widening.  _ Her dream. _ “The Commander is  _ here _ ?” 

“Yes, unfortunately,” the blonde replied in a whisper. There wasn't anyone in the infirmary; still it was better to speak quietly. “He came back the same morning as your aunt did.”

Zoya furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She hadn’t expected the Commander to return from the borders after such a short time, considering the situation she had heard from Adrik two days ago. And yet, something was nagging her in her mind. 

_ I don’t trust him _ . It would be foolish to voice out that kind of opinion, especially on someone of high rank, but Zoya knew, even without the reminder, that she was wary of the Commander ever since he was appointed.

“I can call her,” Nadia offered with a rueful smile.

Zoya smiled back, something she rarely did, but she was grateful for her friend’s presence and understanding. “Please do,” she said.

Nadia reached out for Zoya’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She stood up, straightening her  _ kefta _ . “Get some rest. She’ll be here in a few.”

“Nadia,” Zoya called just as the blonde reached the door, making her stop and look back. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, general,” she said, and then she was gone.

Zoya shook her head, the smile still on her lips. If she were to see herself, she’d probably be surprised that she was able to do so. But then a wave of sadness washed over her, and her smile disappeared. Harshaw was gone. It wasn’t right to smile after the death of someone dear to her. 

_ Stop _ .

A soft meow cut through the silence of the infirmary. Zoya turned and saw a cat perched on the window sill to her left. It hopped down and onto Zoya’s bed, stopping by her side. The tabby tilted its head to the side, eyes wide and curious as if it were asking, ‘Are you alright?’

Zoya felt her eyes burn with unexpected tears. At least Oncat had made it back to the palace. “Hey,” she said, her voice breaking. She raised a hand and ruffled the cat’s head gently. Oncat purred against the gesture, coming closer to Zoya as she continued caressing the cat. The tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t dare let them fall. 

Rushed footsteps echoed in the hall outside, and the door to the infirmary opened. Her aunt Liliyana stood by the threshold, her smile fading when she saw Zoya.

“My girl,” Liliyana said as she hurried towards the bed. “My brave and brilliant girl.” 

Maybe it was her aunt’s presence, or Oncat’s survival, that made Zoya feel a bit lighter, but the tears didn’t stop coming. Liliyana held a hand to Zoya’s face, then was enveloping Zoya into a warm embrace. 

Zoya clutched at her aunt, feeling her arms shake as she did. Oncat moved over to settle on her lap as if sensing the melancholy around them. It was such a soft gesture that Zoya found herself not holding back anymore.

For the first time in a long while, she finally let herself cry. 

The next half hour passed by in silence, aside from Zoya’s occasional sniffles and her aunt’s soothing words. Zoya never felt so thankful for the empty infirmary, without anyone else to see or hear her in her current state. Some time earlier, Oncat had fallen asleep, and now she couldn’t do as much as moving in hopes to not wake the cat. 

“I think the cat has taken a liking to you,” said Liliyana as she settled herself into the chair beside the bed.

Zoya smiled ruefully, her hand reaching out to stroke the cat’s fur. “She’s a brave one, Oncat. She was” —she swallowed a lump in her throat— “my friend’s cat.”

“What’s its name?” 

“Oncat,” Zoya said, chuckling when she saw the half-amused and half-confused expression of her aunt. “And yes, that’s Kaelish for cat.”

“To be honest, it is an endearing name,” Liliyana said, smiling as she looked at the cat with adoration. “She must be famous around here.”

“Indeed. The cat hero and bandit.” Zoya remembered the times Oncat would steal food from Grisha’s plates during lunch. It continued like that until they got used to it and just gave her food whenever she jumped to a table. “She’s been with us for a long time. I thought she disappeared that night, too.”

Liliyana seemed to understand what Zoya meant, and her aunt reached over to squeeze her hand. She gave Zoya a small smile that lightened up her face and made her look a bit younger. “I brought your favorite coffee and tea, enough for two weeks,” she said. Then she narrowed her eyes playfully and added, “As long as you don’t hog it twice a day.”

Zoya was thankful for the distraction. “I can’t promise that,” she replied, mirroring her aunt’s expression. “I need it to stay awake.” 

“Ah, my little girl has become addicted to caffeine. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought them.”

“You make them as good as the ones in the famous shops in Novokribirsk.”

Liliyana grinned at that. “I think this is the first time you’ve said that aloud.”

“I always say that. Even back then,” Zoya said, her brow furrowing. Her aunt knew that Zoya didn’t speak of flattery as much as others wanted her to. But Zoya did give Liliyana compliments because she knew it was what her aunt deserved to hear. “I can take it back if you want.”

“No need to be so grumpy, dear.” Liliyana laughed heartily. A moment passed, and then she added, “Oh, about that herbal brew I used to make for headaches; I’ll bring some the next time I visit. I gave it to someone accompanying a drunk friend back home. He looked like he needed it more.” 

Zoya smiled. Her aunt was always ready to help anyone in need, even if they were strangers. “That’s fine. What’s a normal day without a few headaches, anyway?” She waved a dismissive hand, and the gesture jolted the sleeping cat on her lap. Zoya reached out to put a calming hand to Oncat’s back, saying, “Easy now. You can go back to sleep.”

The tabby glanced at her before lowering its head again to sleep. Zoya eyed the cat with a faraway look, wondering if Oncat knew that she wouldn’t see Harshaw again. It brought another wave of sadness through her. 

“Is your friend Nadia the one you described in some of your letters? She seems lovely.”

Zoya blinked, startled out of her stupor when she heard Liliyana speak. For a moment, she had forgotten that her aunt was there. Zoya narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Described?” she asked. “I think I’ve mentioned her in a few ones, and I use her name every time.”

Liliyana raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the chair. “Oh?” Then she nodded, a look of recognition on her face. “Ah, yes. I remember now. Your fellow Squaller.” She paused. After a moment of consideration, she frowned and said, “Then who was that blond you were telling me that infuriates you?”

“Who—” 

Pain shot through Zoya’s head, and she closed her eyes as she reached a hand up to her temple. A hand touched her shoulder, and Zoya was aware of her aunt asking her what was wrong, but Liliyana’s voice was muffled by the ringing in her ears.

_ You wound me, Nazyalensky,  _ a voice echoed in her head.

Zoya glimpsed an image of a man in a red overcoat, and beside him, two other people: a very tall man and a woman with short hair. The image faded into a blur and there was a flash of red and purple—

“Zoya.” 

Liliyana’s voice cut through the ringing, and Zoya snapped her eyes open. She blinked repeatedly, willing her vision to stop wavering before she looked to her right. Her aunt was standing at the side of the bed, a worried expression evident on her face. Oncat, now awake, was eyeing her with curiosity as if she had grown another head on her shoulder.

_ What was that? _

“Dear, what’s wrong?” Liliyana asked gently. “You were suddenly clutching at your head like you were in pain.”

Zoya let out a long breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. It was the first time that a vision plagued her while she was wide awake. They were getting worse. And she could swear that it looked too  _ real _ . She had to tell Nadia about this tonight. 

“I’m alright, just a small headache,” she replied, hoping that it would pass as an excuse. Zoya didn’t know what to tell her aunt if she tried to ask further. When Liliyana still looked unconvinced, Zoya added, “I’m fine, really.”

Liliyana considered her for a moment, and then she finally relaxed, letting out a sigh. “You should get some rest.”

Zoya didn’t have to argue with that because she knew she really needed some. She carefully settled back down on the bed. Oncat moved from Zoya’s lap to the side of the pillow, resting her chin over the edge. Zoya reached out to touch the cat’s head, and she meowed in return.

“I’ll be leaving by sundown,” Liliyana said, her tone a bit sad. “I’ve been here for three days. Lada must be worried I haven’t come back yet.” 

Lada was her aunt’s adoptive daughter, whom she had taken under her wing when the girl’s parents had died in an accident several years ago. The girl was gifted with the skill to sketch imagery in full detail. Zoya remembered Lada demanding her to help with drawing the Little Palace extensively. Perhaps Zoya should visit her soon when she had a long weekend off. 

“I understand. I shall see you off later,” Zoya said. It would be a long time before her aunt came to visit Os Alta again, and it was saddening to see Liliyana go every time. “Do send Lada my compliments.”

Her aunt laughed, tucking the covers under Zoya’s sides. “The girl is always asking when your letter will arrive. She doesn’t show it, but I know she misses you.”

“Tell her I’ll write as soon as I can.” 

“You can count on that. Now go get rest.” Liliyana brushed some of the stray hair on Zoya’s cheeks. Then she said jokingly, “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

Zoya snorted. The tale of the too-clever fox was the only one she loved when she was little. But she knew that that time was over. “I think we’re way past that,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Alright, then. Get some sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake.”

Liliyana sat back on the chair and began humming. Zoya closed her eyes. The tune was mellow, and she tried to think on why the act was a bit familiar. Her aunt had never sung her to sleep before; maybe it was what Liliyana did to Lada before the girl slept. It was effective, because her thoughts had become fuzzy with tiredness. 

The humming faded and was exceeded by whistling. But by then, she was too tired to ask why the tune changed. Zoya let it be, not quite knowing how an off-tune whistling was able to lull her to sleep. 

***

“Make sure you write, or Lada will convince me to let her come the next time I visit,” Liliyana said with a smile as she mounted the horse.

“I’ll get to it as soon as I get back to my quarters,” Zoya replied with a light laugh, and then put a hand up to her side when she felt a twinge of pain. The Healers had told her to be careful with her movements since her side had it worse than her other injuries. Before her aunt could say something out of concern, she gently said, “I’ll be fine.”

Zoya tightened the strap holding the satchel around the horse’s saddle, her hand lingering on the material. Liliyana leaving after her visit in the palace always reminded Zoya of the time when she was nine, when she was first brought to the Little Palace to train, and when her aunt had told her that she could not go with Zoya, as her aunt was needed back in her hometown. Zoya had looked over her shoulder, expecting to see her aunt, but she was already guided further inside the palace and the gates had disappeared from view.

It made Zoya feel sad every time, but she was thankful for the short time she was able to spend with her guardian. 

“Be careful on your way back,” Zoya said. 

Liliyana reached a hand down to Zoya’s face. “Stay safe as well,” her aunt said. She gripped the horse’s reins as the gates were opened, giving Zoya one last glance. “Write soon.” Then her aunt was steering the horse out of the gates.

Zoya watched her go, as she did every time Liliyana left the palace, only turning back once her aunt had disappeared down the path. The walk back to her quarters was a bit longer than her usual, considering her injury and detour to the gardens. She was hoping to avoid contact with the Commander anytime soon, now that he was back in the palace. Her dream still lingered in her mind, and she knew that it wouldn’t be forgotten for a while. 

The path narrowed as Zoya passed the garden, leading her to the back exit in the Grisha quarters. She quickened her pace, determined to get to her rooms as soon as possible.

“Nazyalensky.”

A cool voice cut through the silence in the approaching night time, and Zoya closed her eyes. There wasn’t a single time that the odds were on her side. She turned around and saw the Commander approaching her. His blue  _ kefta _ was almost black against the darkening sky, the sight contributing to the grim aura he brought with him.

“Commander,” Zoya said with a firm salute, ignoring the dull throb on her side.

The Commander was alone, Zoya noticed. Usually Ivan—the Commander’s right hand—was following right behind him. He waved a dismissive hand. “At ease,” he said, and Zoya complied. He looked her over, his brows furrowing slightly. “You’re supposed to be resting. How are you?” 

Zoya fought the urge to step back. She wouldn’t let the mere presence of the Commander cower her. “I’m feeling fine, and I was just on my way back to the Grisha quarters, sir.”

“I was thinking about if you should take some time off for a while until you’re doing better.”

A spark of annoyance went through Zoya, but she didn’t dare let it show. “That won’t be necessary, sir. I can assure you that I will be back to training tomorrow.”

“I know well what you are capable of,” the Commander said, his tone gentle. “You’re still mourning, Zoya. I know you’re blaming yourself for what happened—”

“ _ Don’t. _ ” Zoya grit her teeth, realizing what she had done. She clenched her fists at her sides as she tried to regain her composure. Her mind was in shambles as the events from the festival and her recurrent dreams rushed to her. She let out a deep breath and said, “Apologies for my outburst, Commander, but I believe it won’t make any difference, even if I take the days off.”

The Commander nodded in understanding, his expression concerned. If it were some time ago, Zoya would have seen it as genuine. But after having doubts planted in her mind by her latest dream, she wasn’t so sure anymore. Something didn’t feel right with the Commander being back so soon from the borders.

“We’re doing everything that we can in investigating what happened during the festival.” The Commander paused, and then he added quietly, “For Harshaw.”

_ Not enough _ , Zoya thought, but didn’t dare to lash out at the Commander again. The mention of her friend brought a pain to her chest. She didn’t know what to believe in anymore. “I understand.” She straightened, the alert and formal soldier once more. “Permission to leave, Commander?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Granted.”

With that, Zoya turned around and walked away, feeling her uneasiness lighten a bit, but still it lingered around. It was definitely going to be a long night of thinking again.

***

The moment the Squaller had disappeared in the narrow walkway leading to the Little Palace, the Commander dropped his concerned expression. Getting closer to Nazyalensky was proving to be harder than he thought it would be when he first came to the palace. Perhaps he should start the more direct approach. Do something heroic or favorable for the person one was trying to get to their side. 

Light footfalls sounded near, and the Commander needn’t turn around to know who it was. He reached a hand to the edge of his sleeve, pushing it up to reveal the black veins coating his arm. It had become much more prominent when he had tried to summon the  _ nichevo’ya _ —his shadow creatures—a few days ago. He had gotten better at controlling them compared to his previous attempts, and it was only a matter of time before he could summon multiple shadows at once.

Perhaps he should save it for the king’s birthday celebration in a week.

“Follow her aunt. Make sure you get her properly, and remain unseen,” the Commander said, pushing his sleeve back down. 

“Right away, Commander.” 

The Commander glanced over his shoulder. “Ivan,” he called, and the other man stopped in his tracks and stood at attention. “Do not mess up.”

Ivan, his ever loyal second-in-command, gave a sharp salute before disappearing into the shadows beyond the palace. If Ivan did his job properly, the Commander would have the Squaller on his good side by the time he started to execute his plan for Vasily Lanstov.

But for now, patience was his closest friend.

***

Much later, on the main road just beyond the boundaries of Os Alta, Ivan carried out the Commander’s orders. 


	4. Monsters Under The Bed

##  **FOUR - Monsters Under The Bed**

_ “Stay and fight the darkness until you can be free from it, and so when the light comes, you will appreciate it once more.” _

The dagger was light in Nikolai’s hand. He found it amusing that the weapon was the only way to break his so-called curse that transformed him into a feral monstrosity at most nights. And the one who would drive it through his heart was the one he loved. 

Nikolai laughed at the irony. For someone who had darkness as a power, the Black Heretic gave Nikolai a dramatic way out of the inevitable death his brother had planned for him. If the Black Heretic had done it out of amusement or just mere entertainment, then he’s as twisted and unstable as Nikolai had thought.

His surroundings blurred all of a sudden, and Nikolai dropped the blade on the table in panic. He blinked repeatedly, trying to force away the fuzziness in his vision. His sight cleared after a few tries. 

“Nikolai?”

He turned to the voice, and Nikolai saw a man standing by the doorway to his chambers. Nikolai knew him from somewhere, with his shaggy brown hair and eyeglasses adding to the familiarity, but couldn’t quite remember. 

The man in a purple overcoat looked at Nikolai warily. “Nikolai?” he repeated.

_ Kill. _

Nikolai’s hands twitched, the urge to act on the thought was suddenly overwhelming. A hiss came out from his mouth, as if something burned him from the inside, and he pushed himself to the table, the wood pressing hard against his back. 

His thoughts clogged up and disappeared. 

And then it came back rushing to him. 

_ David. _ The man was David. 

“David.” Nikolai pressed the heel of his palm to the spot between his eyebrows. He thought of everything he knew of the man. David Kostyk. The greatest Fabrikator he’d ever known. His favorite nerd. One of the people he trusted the most. He tried to shove back the fear that clouded his mind. He was slowly succumbing to the monster’s clutches. “Yes, why?”

The Fabrikator hesitated, looking like he was ready to leave. Nikolai couldn’t blame him. “Genya asked me to come check on you,” David said, his hand still gripping the doorknob. He made no move to come closer. “Are you all right?”

_ No, I had the urge to kill you just now,  _ Nikolai thought fearfully.  _ It’s taking over me. _ But instead he sent David a grin convincing enough to cover up his panic. “Of course, David. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You looked really terrible a moment ago.”

“Ah, but don’t I always?”

The statement made David pause, and then shake his head, a small smile on his lips. Something very un-David-like, but Nikolai felt relieved. At least David didn’t look like he wanted to run away from Nikolai anymore. “There he is,” the Fabrikator said, stepping further into the room. “I thought you were losing it.”

Nikolai stifled a bitter laugh.  _ If only you knew. _ He turned back to the table and took the dagger, putting it back safely in the drawer. He didn’t know of any other place to put it, and he felt better not seeing the reminder of his likely end. “So, what brings you here for a nightly visit?”

David frowned. “To check on you, remember?”

“You usually don’t do that before.”

“I do now.”

The way David spoke both surprised and bemused Nikolai. Usually David was the quiet one, the type who would speak up only when he was sure of himself. He hadn’t spoken much when he replaced the steel bars on Nikolai’s window the same day Nikolai had returned after almost causing havoc in the capital. And when they had doubled the chains holding him down the bed.

Though Nikolai had seen the Fabrikator without his book more often in the past months they had been stuck in the place, David holding a conversation still astounded Nikolai. 

And also frightened him for a bit. David always knew the right things to say. 

“Do tell me what’s bothering you, my dearest Fabrikator,” said Nikolai, gesturing to the small bench at the edge of the bed. “State your woes before I transform to my monstrosity of an alter ego again.”

David walked over to the bench and sat down, his elbows leaning on his knees as he hunched forward. “Genya still refuses to strengthen your tonic,” he said. “Though I already talked to her about it earlier.”

Nikolai suppressed a sigh. He couldn’t really blame the Tailor. “Did she tell you her reason why she’s still adamant about it?”

“We all know why.”

“I thought we already agreed on that a few days ago?”

“The risks—”

“—of me dying are high. I guess we’ve already established that, haven’t we?”

David leaned back as if he’d been hit, his disappointment clear in his expression. He was silent for another moment, and then he said, “You sound like you’re already giving up.”

Nikolai recoiled at that. He never was the pessimistic type, and sometimes the situation got the better of him and he forgot about the people counting on him. But when he momentarily forgot who David was and had the thought of killing him? It wasn’t reassuring. “Aren’t you?”

The Fabrikator raised his chin, jaw set. “To be honest?” He shook his head. “Never.”

If Nikolai thought David couldn’t surprise him more, he was now proven wrong. Perhaps he had not realized that the Fabrikator could also offer assurance in things other than inventions and ideas. Nikolai knew David as the superior in making ideas come to life. Maybe it had been that way for so long that he didn’t realize that David knew the right thing to say at the right time.

It made Nikolai feel ashamed; David had his fair share of the experience in the wars when the number of soldiers dwindled and the Fabrikators were forced to fight as well, even though they hadn’t been trained for combat. 

Considering the people that could’ve slapped him with the reality, he hadn’t expected it from David.

“That was quite a statement,” Nikolai said. “It might have instilled a sliver of hope that I could survive.”

David shrugged, the calm expression back on his face. He looked down, now finding his hands interesting. “Someone had to do it. They’re all a bit nervous in the past week. I have noticed.”

_ Kill. _

The echo of the thought rang in his ears, and Nikolai closed his eyes tightly. Saints. Regardless of his companions refusing to give up on him, their efforts to continue to do so would be futile if he knew that he was losing himself to the monster. 

His remorseful thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rushed footfalls in the hall, and Tolya’s figure appeared and occupied the whole doorway. David abruptly stood up from the bench. 

“We have a small problem,” said Tolya, face perplexed as if his statement was told in a wrong way. 

“Is it the small we-have-to-get-to-it-right-away,” Nikolai offered, “or the small it’s-already-blown-up-in-our-faces?”

Tolya frowned, his expression even more confused. Then he shook his head. “Somewhere in between that, I believe,” he said, gesturing to the hall with a jerk of his chin. “It’s the woman from a few days ago.”

That piqued Nikolai’s attention. “That is an  _ interesting _ problem,” he said as he followed Tolya out of his chambers, David close behind. “Did she state the reason why she was here?” 

“I didn’t hear the exact details, Tamar was the one talking to her. But I heard that she was almost taken by a group of soldiers,” replied Tolya. “She looked really frightened.”

Nikolai felt uneasy. What could the soldiers want from an old woman? Then he vaguely remembered when the woman had told them that she needed to get to the capital the morning after Nikolai had flown to Os Alta. Had she been a person of interest because of the ruckus he had caused? That didn’t sit well with him. 

They rounded the corner that led towards the grand staircase. It took several steps before Nikolai’s vision became cloudy. He was quickly overwhelmed with panic.  _ No, not now. It’s too early. _

_ Why now? _

Tolya continued, “Tamar is a bit hesitant to let her in.” 

“No, let her in.” Nikolai stopped by the top of the stairs with Tolya halfway down to look back up at him. His head pounded and he gripped the railing at his left for support. “If she needs to hide here for the night, let her. We don’t send away people who need help.”

David, whom Nikolai hadn’t remembered was behind him, came up to his side, putting a hand over his shoulder. “Nikolai, what’s wrong?”

_ Nothing. _

_ Me. _

_ Everything. _

The words rushed to his mind at once, and Nikolai gritted his teeth to stop himself from screaming in anger and frustration. The emotions were crashing altogether as if it were engulfing his logical state of mind until he felt numb and the only words he could hear were:  _ let go. _

He fell on his knees, the ringing in his ears getting louder, and in the background, he could hear voices, mixing into a mess of sound. He put a hand to the side of his head. 

_ Let go, Nikolai. _

Nikolai felt something prick at the side of his face. When he moved his hand away, the black-veined fingers that he had expected to see were already sharp, pointed. His talons had already come out. 

He turned his head to the side. Tolya stood frozen in the same place, and behind him, Nikolai saw Tamar and Genya’s silhouettes as they carried an unconscious form between them through the doors. 

A growl erupted from his mouth, and then the wings burst from his back. The thoughts slipped away from him. He grabbed at them in vain, as they were already out of his reach. 

Nikolai launched himself forward, barreling straight for Tolya. 

And then there was nothing.

***

Dinner had been tough to get through. The moment Zoya had entered the dining hall a while after her aunt left, she could feel the gloomy atmosphere among the Grisha in the wake of Harshaw’s death. A few had even sent looks of pity her way. She ignored them completely, only talking to Nadia who was with her and trying to ignore the absence of their redhead Inferni by the table. 

Zoya had tried to keep up with Nadia’s attempts to start a conversation, the way they used to, but Zoya felt drained and weak, like she had been training nonstop for the whole day. Nadia noticed her mood and suggested that Zoya should go back to the infirmary for the night. 

She had tried to protest, but the dull throb of pain in her side made Zoya agree to her friend’s suggestion. 

Now as she was entering the infirmary, a few soldiers were being treated by Healers. The soldiers look battered—one of them was holding his arm wrapped in a cast, and the other two had bleeding temples and bruises on their faces. 

Zoya approached one of the Healers, whom she knew as Maxim. “What happened here?”

Maxim gestured to another Healer to tend to the soldier at the other bed. “Someone’s horse showed up at the palace gates earlier. Didn't move from the gate even when the patrol tried to lure it away. When the soldiers tried to get near it, it went feral,” he explained as the angry bruise on the soldier’s cheek disappeared under his fingers. “We got someone to tame it down.”

“Did they know whose horse it was?” Zoya furrowed a brow. “It’s kind of strange if some horse just appeared there.”

“It had a pack on the saddle containing a pack of food good for a day and a few other essentials.” Maxim narrowed his eyes, as if he were trying to remember something else. His face lit up and he raised a finger. “Oh, and a visitor’s permit to the capital.”

A feeling of dread struck Zoya. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit well with her, and she had learned the hard way not to ignore her gut feeling. She started to think of the possibility that it could be her aunt’s horse, and the thought alone made her mind close up in panic. The reason why she came to the infirmary was already forgotten.

“Where’s this horse?” she asked the healer. Her hand began shaking at her side, and she clenched it to a fist to lessen its trembling. 

“The stables. Leoni requested to keep it there with the other horses for the time being. Until the owner might come back for it, at least,” Maxim replied. 

Zoya nodded, trying to calm down her distressed thoughts. But she found it difficult to do so. “Thanks. I’ll go check on it,” she said, turning to leave before the Healer could ask anything else.

She hurried out of the room and rushed to the stables. They weren’t that far from the infirmary, and a few minutes later, the dim stalls came into view. Zoya’s steps faltered. She could be wrong—it could be her stress taking over and making her susceptible in thinking worst-case scenarios that might not even be possible. 

But then she remembered the feeling she had that night in the festival, bearing the same weight as she felt now, and it reminded her what it cost: the life of someone close to her. She would never want that to happen again. 

Neighs echoed from a lit stall at the far left of the stable as Zoya approached, followed by soft murmurs in what she could understand as Zemeni. She reached the open door of the stall, seeing the beautiful, dark-skinned Fabrikator patting a hand over the horse’s neck in an attempt to calm it down. The whinnies stopped, and the horse nickered instead. 

“Hey,” Zoya greeted softly. 

The Fabrikator must have not heard Zoya approach because Leoni jumped back a little in surprise. “Oh, good evening, Zoya,” she said, giving her a smile. 

Zoya smiled back, albeit half-heartedly, as she observed the horse’s features. Its gray coat looked a little darker against the low fire of the gas lamp. She had to look closer. “I heard about the ruckus from the infirmary. I just came to check on things,” she said, stepping inside the stall. She turned to Leoni. “Have you been here for long?”

The younger Grisha shook her head. “Not really. I had to convince the other guards to let the horse stay here in the meantime. They were planning to lure it away from the palace.” She gave the horse a stroke on its mane. “It was really strange why it chose to come to the palace.”

“Maybe it knows someone from here?”

“Possibly. But no one recognized or claimed it. I was thinking that it ran away from somewhere or something. It looked really frightened when the soldiers at the gates called me.”

Zoya went over to the other side of the creature. It still had its saddle on; the leather looked old and worn-out. She should reach down to the stirrup, turn it over, and see if there was her aunt’s engraved surname on the metal surface. But her hand shook on her side, and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

“There was actually a satchel hanging by the saddle,” Leoni said, “but they’ve already brought it to the intelligence office to find out who owned it.”

Maxim’s previous words echoed in Zoya’s head.  _ A visitor’s permit to the capital. _ It could be anyone else’s; there were a lot of visitors in the capital. Maybe she was just overthinking—

With a firm shake of her head, Zoya bent down and held the stirrup, finally turning it over. She felt as if the air left her lungs when she saw it: the ‘ _ Garin _ ’ carved in neat cursive on the metal. 

Panic seized the rational part of her mind. 

The investigation of the attack during the festival was still ongoing; the monster or whatever was that thing that caused the incident was still out there. And her aunt had disappeared. 

It was the perfect time for the distressed thoughts to come.

“Zoya?”

Zoya dropped the stirrup, snapping out of her thoughts. She straightened and met Leoni’s worried look. Zoya blinked, willing herself to calm down, and said, “I’m sorry, my mind was a bit preoccupied.”

“Are you alright?” the Fabrikator asked mildly. 

_ No _ , she wanted to tell Leoni, but decided against it. The lesser the other girl knew, the better. Zoya wouldn’t want to involve the younger Grisha in the plan she was starting to think of. “Yes,” she replied instead, forcing a smile. She could only hope that the girl would buy it. “Yes, of course.”

Leoni hesitated a bit before smiling back at Zoya. “Okay, if you say so,” she said. She gave the horse another pat on the neck, then stepped away and turned to the door. “Well, the horse seems a bit calmer now. We should let it rest.”

“Sure,” Zoya said. She reached a hand and rubbed the horse’s forehead, feeling the beast lean against her touch. Its eyes looked back at her, as if it recognized her, and it gave a soft whinny. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her,” she whispered, and then she followed Leoni out of the stall. She glanced back at the horse one last time before she closed the door. She’d see it again, later. “I admire your way around horses. You sure handled it better than the soldiers at the gates.”

“They’re rather friendly creatures. Just don’t give them a reason to have fight-or-flight impulse,” Leoni said as they stepped out from the stables. Then she slowed her steps, so they were side by side. Her eyebrows were furrowed in worry. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you are doing.”

Zoya gave the girl a lopsided smile, feeling grateful for the genuine concern. “It all still feels surreal. But I will be fine,” she replied. Her words felt hollow and empty, though most of it was true.  _ Everything will be fine. She’ll find her aunt by tonight. Liliyana would be alright. _ Zoya nodded at Leoni. “Thank you for asking.”

Leoni smiled, the worried crease in her eyebrows disappearing. “You’re welcome,” she said. 

They were nearing the Grisha quarters, and Zoya had to make an excuse to go the other way. She didn’t want to lie to the girl, but she had to get back to the stables as soon as possible if she were to find her aunt. 

“I almost forgot,” Zoya started, stopping by the shortcut to the infirmary, “I still have to drop by the infirmary. I told the Healers I’d be back by tonight.”

Leoni nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Good night, Zoya.” She waved at Zoya before turning towards the path leading to the Grisha quarters. 

Zoya turned right and waited for several minutes. After she circled around the area twice, she headed back to the stables. 

Getting the horse would be the easy part; the night patrol didn’t bother to come around here that much. 

Making an excuse for the guards by the gates so she could get out was the tricky one. 

She ought to have told Nadia about this, or report it to the higher-ups to issue a search. But with the ongoing investigation of the attack, Zoya was sure the search would be pushed back. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

The stall of her aunt’s horse still had its light on. She quietly slipped inside, hoping that the horse wouldn’t make as much sound as she would expect it to. The creature raised its head when she entered, and it nickered, standing up on its legs. 

Zoya approached it slowly, not wanting to risk the horse causing alarm or getting trampled down. She didn’t have Leoni’s skill for taming horses, and she hoped the horse would at least recognize her.

“Hey,” she murmured, taking slow steps and reaching a hand out. To her surprise, the horse leaned forward, trotting sluggishly until it was directly in front of her. “Are you up for a run tonight?”

The horse nickered again, and then it brushed past her, pacing back and forth to the door. It looked like it wanted to leave. She wouldn’t have any problems in trying to lure it out of the stall.

Zoya grabbed at its reins. “Alright, let’s get you out.”

The gates were guarded by a dozen guards—six outside, and the rest within the palace grounds. Usually more than half of them were Grisha stationed at nights, for extra precautionary measures, they said. But Zoya knew that it was the king’s idea to assign them on more patrols around the palace. 

Vasily Lantsov wasn’t as fond of the Grisha as the previous kings were. Perhaps it did run in their royal blood.

She finally reached the gates, and was immediately halted by the ones standing at the side wall. They wore the blue  _ kefta _ of a Heartrender. Zoya recognized one of them as Fedyor Kaminsky, one of the senior Heartrenders. 

“Nazyalensky,” greeted Fedyor, expression a bit perplexed. “I guess you weren’t informed of the curfew within the palace grounds? No one is allowed to go in or out after eight bells.”

Zoya raised a brow, maintaining her face passive. She hadn’t heard about  _ that _ yet. “Nadia did tell me about that earlier,” she lied smoothly, as if she had done it her whole life. “I’m on an errand.”

Fedyor blinked. “I’m sorry but we can’t—”

“Commander’s errands.”

That made him silent, looking at the other soldiers on duty. They looked unconvinced. Zoya felt irritation spark through her.  _ No time to waste, Zoya. _

“I really don’t think—” Fedyor tried again, but he ended up cutting off his sentence. He shook his head. “What kind of errand?”

Her mind quickly went to the defensive phase. “Classified, Kaminsky. Do you think he would send me out and have me announce the errand to everyone I pass?” Zoya’s mixed emotions were making her like a ticking bomb nearing its detonation. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She mustn't look suspicious. “Look, you can either open the gates and let me do my errand, or we could call the Commander and confirm his orders to all of you. I think it’d be nice and appreciated that we’d all waste his time on the latter.”

Zoya knew she was being too confident; she risked the chances of her getting caught in a lie if Fedyor decided to confirm it to the Commander. But knowing his fear of the Commander, she supposed there was a good chance they would let her out.

The Heartrender was silent for a beat too long, and Zoya was becoming worried that they might actually go to the Commander for confirmation. She’d be sanctioned for her brash behavior. 

Valid reasons to tell the Commander for trying to get out of the palace after curfew hours were already forming in her mind, but then Fedyor raised a hand and gestured for the gate. 

The other guards moved to open the main gates. 

Zoya silently sighed in relief. Her hands were shaking at her sides, and she grabbed the horse’s reins to keep them steady. She just needed to ready herself for whatever punishment she may get later on. Finding her aunt was the priority.

“Get back as soon as you’re done with whatever errand the Commander gave you,” Fedyor said, almost in a grumble. 

“I’ll be back before you even know it.” Zoya was reaching, for sure, because there wasn’t any guarantee that she could find her aunt quickly. Unless the horse knew which way to go just like it did when it came back to the Little Palace. 

Zoya passed the archway of the gates, and then set off into the night.

***

Apparently, the horse did know where to go. They rode fast, and over an hour later, they were out of the capital and headed east. Zoya looked at the horse with a puzzled expression. It seemed so sure where it was going. She could only hope that the place they were headed to wasn’t somewhere too dangerous to go alone. 

Soon when the terrain went a bit steep, the horse veered from the main road to a narrow trail leading into the woods.

Worry started to overcome Zoya. The horse turning to the woods was not a good sign that her aunt was in a good place. Or even a safe one. But she could only hope that Liliyana was alright, no matter how slim the chances were. 

The path narrowed even more, and Zoya had to shield her face with an arm to avoid getting hit by some of the small branches and brushes obscuring the way. Their pace suddenly slowed into a gallop when they hit the uphill path. They were going deeper into the woods and nearing the mountains. What could be here in this area?

Zoya looked up at the sky, thankful for the full moon that provided a bit of light over the expanse of the land. She reached for the lamp and quickly lit it up, though the eeriness of the woods made her heart race. It was as if something could jump out from behind the trees at any moment.

The wind picked up, the rustle of leaves sounding like soft hisses. It was enough to make the horse stop in its tracks with a low nicker. “It’s alright, boy,” Zoya murmured, patting the side of its neck. She tugged at its reins to direct it back to the way it was headed. After a few tries, it followed the trail again.

When the path went steep again, Zoya was suddenly struck with a wave of familiarity, which was strange considering she never went farther east towards the mountains.

Or had she?

The ground leveled back again, and the horse fastened its pace. At last, they broke into a clearing. But what surprised her was that it wasn’t totally barren.

On the slightly uphill path to her right was an  _ estate _ .

“What in the saints’ names—” Zoya huffed as she raised the lamp as if to brighten up the sight of the enormous property. Who would build such a building in  _ this _ location? And what kind of estate was this for it to be built hidden in the middle of the woods? Looking at the vast structure made her regret not telling Nadia about her plan. 

The horse steered right towards the estate. Zoya suddenly felt heavy with dread, the same feeling one would get while receiving bad news, and she was left to let it sink into her mind. It was a familiar feeling, something long forgotten that seemed to have resurfaced. 

She shook off the lingering feeling—she could think about it later. Instead, she focused on the reason why she had left the palace. Her aunt had disappeared and somehow ended up here. 

The horse stopped in front of the gates, and Zoya immediately dismounted. She lifted the lamp to the handle. There were no locks or anything to keep the place secure. When she pulled at the bars, the gates opened easily.

Was the place occupied? It was a strange place to live, let alone build an estate in this area. She wouldn’t be surprised if the building was deserted.

Zoya led the horse past the gates, but it didn’t follow any further after they passed. It gave a low nicker, staying by the gates as close as possible. She tied the reins to the metal bars and gave the horse a pat on the neck before carefully making her way across the wide lawn. The yard was quite vast, it took her halfway through to finally see the faint lights coming from the lower level of the mansion. 

So it wasn’t abandoned, and she hoped for someone to watch her back. She was alone in an unknown territory in the woods. It did sound dangerous, merely thinking about it, but Zoya had known danger since she became a soldier. There was no reason to back out now. 

When she neared the few steps that led to the double doors, she realized that the lights she saw came from the opened doors. One of them was detached from its place by the threshold—its upper hinge had come off, leaving the door tipped forward. It looked as if something had attempted to barge inside and was successful. 

Zoya set the lamp on the ground and turned to the still-decent door, pushing it gently with both hands. It required much force to open if fully, and she realized that whatever had caused the other door to come off its hinges must be powerful because the wood was  _ heavy _ . 

She picked up the lamp, stepped across the threshold, and then she was inside.

A wave of relief suddenly washed over Zoya, like the feeling of coming home. It made her hesitate to call out to anyone who might have owned the place. How come this all looked familiar? She hadn’t been here before. If she ever had, she was sure that she’d remember it as the peculiarity of its location was definitely hard to forget.

A half-lit chandelier dimly illuminated the foyer, a grand staircase at the center that split in two at the top, leading to the east and west side of the mansion. The ground floor opened to several archways and passages, all of them dark except for the one at the far left side. Around her, everything felt in place; a wide, vacant space for accepting guests. 

Zoya started to walk towards the light. “Hello?” she called out, her voice echoing throughout the room. She kept herself alert to any danger lurking around the dark corners of the place. Where were the people? “Hel—”

A crunch under her boot made her stop. She immediately looked down and turned the lamp to the ground. It was broken glass. Zoya frowned, stretching her arm to light up the further part of the floor, and saw that glass was scattered almost everywhere. She looked up at the ceiling and noticed why the chandelier provided little light to the foyer. 

It was only half of what it had originally been, hanging in an unnatural angle that looked like it would fall off any second. Whoever. . . .  _ lived _ here must have not bothered about the mess to clean it up.

“Anyone here?” she called out again, raising the lamp in front of her. She continued her way to the end of the room. The archway was only several feet away when a loud thud echoed from somewhere in the upper level. She craned her neck to the ceiling and muttered, “What the hell?”

“May I help you?” 

The voice startled her, the lamp almost falling from her hand as she held it up in front of her. A woman stood stiffly by the archway, seeming to have seen a ghost when Zoya stared back—the exact opposite Zoya had expected the woman to look based on the harsh tone of her voice. The faint light from the chandelier and the lamp did little to help Zoya see clearly, but she noticed the red color of the woman’s hair and her eyepatch up close. 

Zoya narrowed her eyes on instinct, trying to remember if she had seen the woman before. There was a flash of red in her mind, and she shook her head to whisk it away. 

“Yes, good evening,” she told the woman, trying to gauge the possible danger she could be in. One could never know the capability of a person just because they looked harmless. She cleared her throat. “My apologies for barging in here without permission, but has anyone come here before me?”

The red-haired woman continued to stare at her with the same bewildered expression, making Zoya frown. She considered rephrasing her words.

“What I meant was, had a woman come to this place earlier this night?” She shook her head, still finding that her statement sounded wrong. But perhaps she couldn’t help it because something about her familiarity of the place felt  _ wrong _ . “It’s a strange question, I’m aware—”

“Zoya?”

Zoya looked past the woman’s shoulder and saw her aunt, followed by a taller woman behind. A blanket was wrapped around Liliyana’s shoulders, her expression mildly surprised, but otherwise she looked well. Zoya felt relieved, as if a thorn had been removed from her chest. And then she noticed that the woman behind Liliyana had taken a step back, shock obvious in her golden eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Zoya asked her aunt as she approached. She sent pointed stares in the two stranger’s directions before turning her attention fully to Liliyana. “What happened?”

Liliyana only smiled softly. “Yes, dear, I’m alright. It’s a long story. I will tell you the rest later,” she said. “How did you get here?”

“How did  _ you _ get here?”

“I went on my own.”

Zoya narrowed her eyes. Her aunt knew of this place? She looked warily over the golden-eyed woman, who only cleared her throat. She squared her shoulders, and Zoya noticed that the woman’s arms were bare and covered with tattoos.

“It’s true,” the woman said. Her hands seemed to reach for something by her thighs, but Zoya saw nothing there. Was it a tell of reaching for a weapon? If it was, Zoya wouldn’t wait to find out. The woman continued, “She needed a place to stay over for a bit.” She looked like she wanted to say something more, but decided against it and stayed silent. 

“Alright,” Zoya said, nodding at the woman, “I guess I’ll be taking her back.” She gestured to the doors, nodding to her aunt, who seemingly understood. The sooner they got away the better. 

Liliyana nodded and removed the blanket from her shoulders, giving it to the red-haired woman. “Thank you for letting me stay for a few hours, dear,” she said, giving the woman’s hand a gentle pat as she took the material. Liliyana regarded the golden-eyed woman as well, who in return smiled and bowed slightly.

“You’re very much welcome.” The red-haired woman smiled, the act lighting up her face. She then turned to look at Zoya as Liliyana started to walk towards the entrance. 

Zoya lingered for a bit, contemplating what to say to the two women. Her aunt seemed to have taken a liking to them. If they were dangerous people, Liliyana wouldn’t have warmed up to them, she was certain. Zoya decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps there were still good-hearted people, and she was just too wary to believe so.

With a small smile, she tipped her head in a polite bow, hoping that it was enough to convey a message of thanks. She turned to go, but stopped halfway when one of the women spoke.

“Zoya.”

Zoya froze. A wave of pain rushed to her head, and she turned sharply to the voice. It was from the redhead. Behind her, the golden-eyed woman drew in a sharp breath. Zoya narrowed her eyes at them. Why had it sounded like the woman knew  _ her _ ?

The red-haired woman’s tone was stiff. “Don’t trust  _ his _ soldiers.”

_ His _ ? Whose soldiers? Zoya felt a headache building up as her mind spiraled into confusion. “What was that supposed to mean?” 

Liliyana’s voice echoed somewhere behind Zoya. “Watch out for broken glass on the floor, dear. There are a lot here,” she said.

Zoya turned back to the woman, about to ask her again, but the redhead had already shifted back to her surprised expression as if she didn’t realize the words that she said. The other woman behind her looked passive, but Zoya could still see the stiffness in her demeanor.

“Oh, my apologies. Please ignore me. I tend to spew random things,” the red-haired woman said, wincing. “Be careful on your way back.”

Zoya knew that the woman was lying, but decided not to press further. It had already spooked her enough. She didn’t even know how her aunt had come to know this place. Shaking her head in disbelief, Zoya turned to follow her aunt. The pounding in her head had started to worsen, and she wanted to get out of here immediately.

She was halfway to the doors when a loud thud resounded, making her stop. Zoya looked up the stairs.

There was a short silence, followed by a panicked voice. “ _ Genya! Tamar! _ ” It came from somewhere on the upper level. A moment later, a man stumbled on the top of the grand staircase, grabbing the handrail for support. “Genya! Tamar! Are you alr—”

The man stopped abruptly, a bewildered expression appearing on his face when their eyes met. Zoya could feel the look mirrored on her face, and she found it strange to be surprised to see someone she didn’t even know. But why?

His legs buckled and he fell on his knees, but his eyes didn’t waver from her. Zoya found herself staring back at him with narrowed eyes—bewildered and confused on why she  _ wanted _ to reach for him.

Was that normal to feel for someone you just met?

It was both bizarre and alarming.

“Who’s that?” Liliyana’s voice came from somewhere behind Zoya, diverting her attention from the blond man’s look. 

_ No one. Someone. _ She had no definite answer. Who  _ were _ these people?

Knowing that she would have more questions than answers if she stayed longer, Zoya sent one last wary glance to the man at the top of the stairs.  _ Who are you? _ she thought. Her gaze lingered for another moment before she turned to her aunt.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head and made her way towards the threshold where her aunt was. “Let’s go.”

Zoya led her aunt out of the doors and away from the estate. She didn’t look back.


	5. A Storm Is Coming

##  **FIVE - A Storm Is Coming**

_ “The best lies were those closest to the truth.” _

  
  


The room Zoya had rented was small and cramped, but it did feel warm. They had just gotten back in the capital and were staying in a lodge at the edge of the lower town. By now, Zoya was sure that they were starting to question her ‘errand’ and report it back to the Commander. Unless they hadn’t launched a search for her.

She knew she should have thought of an excuse while they were on their way back to Os Alta. But everything that she had seen in the place where she found her aunt still bothered her mind.

It all felt surreal—from seeing an estate in the middle of the woods to meeting people that were familiar and strangers to her at the same time. Merely thinking of it made Zoya’s head pound. Her aunt knowing about the place contributed to the headache. What had she witnessed tonight?

Liliyana settled herself at the edge of the bed as Zoya went to the window and peeked outside. She felt a bit strange, like someone had followed them back, but it was just probably her being irrational. She turned to her aunt, leaning back on the windowpane. 

For a moment, Zoya looked at her aunt, not seeming to know what to ask first. She asked the first thing on her mind instead. “What happened?”

“Robbers, I think. A group of them tried to corner me just outside Os Alta,” Liliyana said, removing the cloak from around her shoulders and folding it to the side. “I was able to get away from them.”

Zoya's eyebrows furrowed. "Did you see their faces? Or anything that would identify them?" 

Liliyana hesitated for a second, and then shook her head. "No, it was a bit dark."

"Are you sure?" 

Hesitation flashed on her aunt's face, but it disappeared in a blink. Zoya found herself frowning. Was Liliyana trying not to say anything else? Or was Zoya just reaching?

"Yes, I'm quite sure," her aunt replied. She turned to Zoya with a confused look. "How did you get there?" 

"Your horse went back to the palace." Zoya tried not to remember the panic she felt when she saw the horse back without its owner. Liliyana reared back in surprise from her reply. "How did that happen? How did you know about  _ that _ estate?" She felt bad for pressing further, but Zoya had to know. 

There was something about the place that she felt drawn to. 

Her aunt's eyebrows furrowed into a frown, expression going back to confusion. "I came about the area several times when I got lost on my way to the capital." She shook her head. Her frown remained. "As for my horse coming back to the palace. . .I have no idea. I remember one of them tying him to the gates when they let me in." She paused. “The ropes must have been loose.”

If it ever was, Zoya doubted that the horse would run instantly when it knew its owner wasn’t with it. 

Unless something scared it off.

The man's voice echoed through Zoya's mind, how desperate he sounded when he was shouting. And how his expression looked when their eyes met, and her own reaction mirroring his. 

The urge to reach out to him had been overwhelming; a feeling of finally seeing a long lost friend.  _ Who was he? _

Zoya shook the thought off. "After that?"

"Not much," Liliyana said. "I remember passing out for a bit, and waking up in the parlor later."

That couldn't explain the destroyed door nor the broken glass on the floor. Could that have been its usual state even before they got there? It’s not as if the occupants were keen on living in such a messy place. Or were they using it as a temporary hiding place?

Zoya found both ideas not good at all.

She was about to ask further, but Liliyana was already saying, “I am fine, dear. I just need to rest for the night and I’ll have to get back to traveling tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Zoya was still adamant of letting the events slip. Who could’ve known what would happen if ever those ‘robbers’ her aunt described had been successful on their attempt? “We need to report this.”

Liliyana waved a hand. “It’s alright. Whatever happened tonight was already done. Nothing bad happened to me.”

Zoya sighed. It was no use trying to argue with her aunt. She walked over to Liliyana and knelt down in front of her, taking her aunt’s hand in hers. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Ah, my brave girl. I thought you don’t get worried?” Liliyana smiled softly, lifting her other hand to Zoya’s cheek. The wrinkles around her aunt’s eyes were prominent up close, but her expression remained gentle as ever. “Your aunt is fine. Still strong and kicking, as always.”

A long moment passed as Zoya’s mind argued on pressing further and respecting Liliyana’s wishes. She knew to herself that she wanted to learn whoever tried to attack her aunt, but the latter still won, anyway. With another sigh, Zoya finally said, “Alright.” She stood up and walked to the table near the window, pulling a chair out to sit on. “I’m staying for the night.”

Liliyana raised a brow. “Aren’t you needed back in the palace?”

Zoya fought a wince. She momentarily forgot about lying her way out of the palace. She still had to think of excuses to say, no matter how absurd they might sound, and she was sure she would get probation. “Just rest for now. They won’t be needing me tonight,” she assured her aunt. 

But she knew it would be a lie. 

Zoya woke with a jolt, her head immediately lifting up from the table. For a moment, she had forgotten where she was. When she looked around, she realized that she was in the lodge by the outskirts. It was still dark outside when she looked through the window, and the lamp at the end of the table had already gone out. How long had she been asleep?

There was a sound of thundering hooves nearby, and Zoya peeked out the window to look. True enough, there were horses stationed in front of the inn. Quite a lot of them. She squinted through the glass, trying to see who the riders were. A quick glance at the nearest soldier sent her blood cold.

The Commander’s guards. 

Seeing them here was not good news.

Zoya stood up and walked to the door, glancing back at her aunt’s sleeping form before slipping out of the room. The hallway outside was dark and quiet, making the creaks of the wooden floorboard sound louder as she made her way to the stairs. By the time she got down from the stairs, she could already hear loud voices coming from the lobby. 

Even before she could peek over the front, however, Zoya felt a hand clamp over her shoulder. She whirled around, her hand coming up to whoever’s hand it was, but she was pushed back immediately to the wall, back into the dark.

A pair of golden eyes stood out in the dimness of the surroundings. “ _ Don’t _ ,” a voice said, nearly in a hiss, “they’re after you.”

Zoya tried to push off the person in front of her, but they were strong. “Get away from—”

The voices became louder and footsteps closer. Zoya froze just as another voice came from her other side. “Over here.  _ Now. _ ” 

She was led to the short hall towards the back door, and a moment later, the night wind bit on her skin as they burst out to the alley, her kefta doing only little of keeping her from freezing. The panic over seeing the Commander’s guard had made her act impulsively, but she finally came to her senses and took a step back from the people that brought her out.

“Who—” Zoya stopped when she saw their faces under their hoods. 

The two women she had met in the estate. 

Her defenses kicked in. She clenched a fist at her side, feeling the wind bow to her will. A deep rumble echoed in the skies. The taller woman raised a hand up as if surrendering, the red-haired woman following suit.

“How did you follow us here?” Zoya said, voice low and laced with threat. Her gaze looked back and forth to the women. She was so lost in the sea of questions that she ended up scowling at them instead. “Who in the saints’ name are you two?”

They shared a quick look before the redhead stepped forward. Zoya slammed a gust of wind near the woman’s feet, rustling her cloak and revealing a red  _ kefta _ underneath. Zoya blinked in confusion.  _ A Corporalki? _

She shook the thought out of her head. “One more step, and you’ll be gasping from lack of air,” Zoya warned.

The redhead pursed her lips and nodded. Her expression looked conflicted enough, like she didn’t know what to say first. “I’m Genya,” she said after a moment, and then she gestured to the golden-eyed woman. “This is Tamar. We’re not here to cause any harm.”

“When people say that, they actually mean the opposite,” Zoya said. She narrowed her eyes at them. “Give me one good reason not to scream and draw the guards’ attention.”

A beat, and then the woman whom she knew as Tamar huffed a laugh. “You don’t scream,” she said. Then she blinked. “I mean, you do not look like the sort to do so.”

Zoya was already considering calling out to the guards, but hesitated for a moment when she remembered that one of them was Grisha. But she hadn’t seen the red-haired woman anywhere before, and she doubted that she was a soldier from the Little Palace. 

When Genya spoke again, her tone held an impatience that wasn’t there before. “I’m a soldier stationed at the borders,” she said quietly, and Zoya’s eyes widened.  _ That explained the  _ kefta. Tamar sent a sharp look over to her companion, but Genya ignored her. “I deserted some time ago.”

She continued, “Halmhend is worse than it seems, and the Commander and the king are not doing anything about it.” Genya took a step forward, jaw set. Zoya was still too shocked to move. “The Commander might be planning something. And now his guards are after you, it wouldn’t be good. You have to get out of here.”

Zoya suddenly remembered Adrik’s words from a few days ago.  _ They’re having a hard time pushing back the Fjerdan advancements. _ And yet the Commander had returned the next morning after Adrik told them about the news. Could Genya be telling the truth?

“How do I know you’re not making this up?”

Genya sighed, pushing the upper part of her cloak away to reveal the collar of her kefta. Attached to it was the all too familiar crest of the king. The Lantsov double-eagle. “Is this enough proof?”

Zoya’s head was starting to spin with overwhelming thoughts. But she held her ground. “I lied my way out of the palace,” she said weakly, not sure why she was telling them about this. She didn’t know how to process all the new information. “They have a reason to come looking for me.”

Tamar shook her head, a grim expression evident on her face. “No,” she said, “they’re looking for you as a prime suspect for murder.”

The statement stopped Zoya cold.  _ “What?” _

“I heard it from a few blocks over when someone had identified seeing you here in this area.”

Zoya closed her eyes as the headache hit her fully. What was happening? “Let them arrest me. I have nothing to hide,” she said.

“Look, you just said that you lied your way out of the palace. What’s your alibi?”

_ Saints, she’s right.  _ Her thoughts became conflicted as she eyed the two women warily. Could she really trust them? But the accusation on her for murder sounded absurd, and on what grounds did they have that against her? And whose murder were they pinning on her?

A shout echoed somewhere behind Zoya. “You there!” 

She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder, because the guard in black had recognized her immediately. 

“She’s over here!”

Zoya cursed under her breath. Whatever chaos that was in her mind worsened as she looked back to the women, who were looking expectantly at her.

“It’s now or never, general,” Tamar said, already turning to the other side of the alley but still waiting for Zoya’s reaction. 

She only had a second to glance up at the lodge’s upper floor, sent a silent apology and prayer to her aunt, then turned to Tamar. She could only hope that she had made the right decision when she said, “Lead the way, then.”

With that, Zoya followed Genya and Tamar out into the night.

***

Nadia still had to do one last sweep around the Grisha quarters before she went to her room. She was on night duty, tasked to make sure no one else was out after curfew. It had been set by King Vasily after the tragic incident at the festival a few days ago.

It made Nadia falter in her tracks, a heavy feeling settling in her chest again. Harshaw’s death still felt surreal, his absence like a hollow space that followed her wherever she went. The memory of not getting to him on time would always be a weight somewhere in her heart. 

The investigation of the incident was hitting a dead end; but she refused to believe that it was just a random occurrence like some others had concluded. Hearing those words from people that once fought side-by-side with Harshaw made her feel dismayed. Their Harshaw deserved better than that.

_ We’ll see through to the end of this, Harshaw, _ she had vowed during his funeral, and she repeated it as she watched his shroud get consumed by flames. Nadia made sure to keep that vow.

“Nadia!” 

Nadia turned to the direction of the voice and saw a man in red  _ kefta _ approach her. It was their senior Healer, Maxim. There was a tightness in his expression that didn’t sit well to her. “Good evening, Maxim,” she greeted. “What is it?”

“Commander called all the soldiers on duty to the main gates,” he said. 

“What for?” She kept the same pace as Maxim as they made their way to the main gates. “My patrol was just about to end.”

“Something about a reported incident outside the capital just now, I believe. It’s urgent.” Then the Healer blinked, as if he remembered something important. “And haven’t you heard?”

The way he said it only brought another wave of panic to Nadia. “Heard what?”

“I thought you already knew. Zoya went out of the palace hours ago,” Maxim replied, and Nadia’s eyes widened. “She hasn’t come back.”

Nadia felt fear grip at her mind as she brought a hand up to her forehead. She had told Zoya to go to the infirmary to check on her injuries after dinner, and Nadia hadn’t seen her ever since. Now she was informed that she went out of the palace way after curfew. She mentally scolded herself for forgetting to tell Zoya about the curfew.

“Did she say where she was going?” she asked the Healer.

Maxim shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “She reasoned out that the Commander had tasked her an errand, which turned out untrue.”

Zoya  _ lied _ to go out of the palace? In the long time Nadia had known the raven-haired Squaller, she knew that Zoya would only lie if she  _ really _ needed to. She couldn’t think of anything that might have forced her to do it. As far as she remembered, Zoya had looked fine when she left the dining hall earlier.

Whatever her reason was, Nadia knew that it was worth risking having probation—or worse, suspension. The Commander must have been angry.

The gates were lined with soldiers that were mostly Grisha, facing the Commander, whose stoic expression brought a wave of uneasiness through her even from afar. Ivan, the Commander’s right hand, was beside him. His usual stoic expression was distracted and he was looking down, like a child that had been scolded by his parents. 

Nadia and Maxim were approaching the group of soldiers when the Commander seemed to notice their presence and turn his attention to them. But his gaze was focused on Nadia.

“Zhabin.” His cool voice echoed through the open courtyard, and Nadia’s pace slowed. The expression on his face was in between angry and annoyed, but she refused to get unnerved by the Commander’s look. “Did you know about Nazyalensky’s plan to lie her way out of the palace?”

Nadia felt her jaw tick in annoyance, and she breathed deeply to calm herself. She understood that the Commander was furious about what Zoya had done, but he had no grounds to accuse Nadia of something  _ publicly _ . Her voice was steady when she replied, “No, sir. I haven’t seen her around since we left the dining hall.”

It was the truth, but she figured that if she did ever know about Zoya’s plan beforehand, Nadia would still cover for her. Nadia distrusted the Commander just as much as Zoya did. Something in his demeanor had always been suspicious to her. 

The Commander’s jaw twitched as he tore his gaze away from Nadia and looked back to the soldiers that were assigned at the gates. “You all should’ve known better,” he said quietly, and, somehow, it sounded more terrifying than getting scolded. 

The one ahead of the group, whom Nadia had recognized as Fedyor, kept a neutral face as he took the words from the Commander. She couldn’t blame him; Fedyor had always followed the orders like a good soldier. But all it took was one good lie from a fellow soldier for Fedyor to slip. 

Tonight took a blow to Fedyor’s pride and reputation. 

“One of our  _ trusted _ soldiers has gone out and hasn’t made it back yet,” the Commander declared to them, effectively catching all their attention and making them stand straighter. Nadia huffed incredulously as the man continued, “And as courtesy to our  _ great _ gatekeepers, I am tasking all soldiers present to conduct a search for our missing Squaller.”

Nadia closed her eyes as she pressed her fingers to her eyes. First Harshaw, and now Zoya. If she lost someone close to her again—Nadia stopped before the thoughts could get any worse. She’s not losing anyone again. She would not have it.

“Zhabin.”

She quickly looked up, finding the Commander’s stern gaze at her. 

“You will lead the search party,” he said.

Nadia nodded with conviction. At least she could make it a top priority. “Right away, Commander,” she said. 

“Very well.” The Commander considered her for a moment, and then added, “Finding Zoya Nazyalensky is top priority, as I am also issuing a bounty on her head.” 

A rough breath escaped from Nadia as she stepped forward, as if doing so would make her understand the statement more.  _ A bounty? _ “On what grounds?” she demanded, still not quite believing what she had just heard. 

Bounties were dead set on criminals in their definition. And a bounty on Zoya? It was madness, and Nadia was having a hard time processing the information.

The Commander almost looked apologetic to her outburst reaction. “For breaking the strict rules of curfew as per His Highness’ orders,” he said. And then, with a grim tone, he added, "for being a prime suspect over the deaths of the First Army soldiers outside the capital” —then the next words were a blow to her gut— "and the murder of Harshaw."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 done! ;-;
> 
> I'm sorry for this 27k mess of part 1 kljhasdfhljkjs i hope i can get to finish part 2 soon. :(((((((((( 
> 
> If you have made it this far, thank you so much and I hope you like it! <3 ;-;


End file.
